Ain't One for Speeches
by dogmeathasdied
Summary: Cayde-6 has permission to leave the Tower so he may advise the citizens of the Last City on the perils of leaving the safety of the Walls. The catch? He's not allowed to go alone. Master Rahool needs to set up Cryptarchy entrance examinations at the College, and Ikora Rey has seen fit to send the two out together...much to their mutual dismay. From a writing prompt.
1. Make it Work

"It's quite impossible, I'm afraid," Master Rahool said to Ikora Rey. "I've got a schedule to keep at the College. I don't think I could facilitate this lecture to your liking."

He smiled at the Warlock Vanguard and hoped he didn't look too desperate. For the love of all things under the Light, her suggestion had to be a joke! Ikora was a sensible, reasonable Warlock. Surely she could see that there was no way he could possibly be expected to accompany Cayde-6 on a City outing. Ikora returned his smile from the other side of the table in the Vanguard Hall. His heart sank. He knew that smile. She had made up her mind.

"Cayde will go with you to the College today," she said. "That works out all the better for you both. You can administer the Cryptarchy application examinations, and Cayde can get to know the students and familiarize himself with the auditorium. Tomorrow, after the second part of examinations, he can give his speech."

Rahool looked around the Hall helplessly. Commander Zavala glanced up from his reading at the far end of the polished table. _You're on your own this time_ , his look said.

"But…but this is _Cayde_ we're talking about!" Rahool protested. "Quite frankly, I'd rather put a leash on an ogre and walk it around the Tower! I'd probably have better luck at that than keeping an eye on him! How do I know he's not going to just run off into the City?"

"That's precisely why we're sending you with him." Ikora continued smiling. "Zavala and I can't go. If we sent another Guardian, Cayde would be likely to persuade them to deviate from the plan. You're the only one I know who won't be swayed by his smooth talking."

Blast it all! At any other time that would have been a great compliment. Of course he wouldn't be swayed by Cayde's ridiculous notions! But it wasn't just talking he'd have to worry about. The Hunter Vanguard was quite capable of making himself disappear when he wanted to. How in the Light was _he_ supposed to stop a headstrong Guardian? It was laughable! No, it was just plain absurd!

Rahool opened his mouth to protest. Ikora held up a hand.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "It's up to you to find a way to make it work. We need a civilian to accompany Cayde to keep him down to earth — literally — and to help ease the minds of people who might be uncomfortable meeting a Guardian. Besides, you know the City even better than he does."

Rahool closed his mouth and scowled. He didn't care that Ikora could see. He had every right to be upset about this! The Vanguards were just foisting Cayde upon him like a naughty child they were too exasperated to deal with any longer. Let Rahool handle it! Let the Cryptarchy bear the brunt! Blessed Light, what else was new?

"If it's any consolation," Ikora said, her hazel eyes twinkling, "Cayde was just as upset at learning you would be going with him."

A tiny snort of laughter escaped from Zavala. Rahool glowered at him.

"Take heart, Cryptarch," Ikora said. "By sending you, Cayde knows we mean business. Zavala has cleared a shuttlecraft for your use. Send a message to Cayde on the Ghost interlink when you're ready to depart."

Rahool grumbled a rather ungracious goodbye and stalked off to the Archives to gather his things. It felt like walking to his own trial.


	2. Zero Percent Fun

There was a hilarious irony in this whole situation, but Cayde-6 didn't feel much like laughing at the moment. His first time out of the Tower in longer than he cared to admit and he had been saddled with Master Rahool, the wettest blanket of them all. He knew Ikora could see all his hopes and dreams squashed the moment she had announced that he wouldn't be going to the City alone. She had taken _pleasure_ in it. Zavala too, that double-crossing Awoken jerk! What had he ever done to deserve such treatment?

Cayde sighed and toggled the jumpseat settings for the Tower shuttlecraft he'd been assigned. Speaking of grievous treatment, this ship looked like it belonged in a museum and approximately zero percent fun to fly.

"Hey, Holliday!" Cayde called over his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Amanda answered. The shipwright was kneeling on the cabin floor with her arm stuck through an access panel into the transport's guts.

"You sure my own ship ain't ready?"

"Depends," she grunted. "Did you _want_ to spiral to your death outta the Hangar?"

Cayde spun the seat around and shrugged.

"At this point, that don't sound too bad."

Amanda gave him a look. It was not Ikora's 'The Look', but it said remarkably the same things. Not nice things.

"You don't got somethin' a little more sleek?" he asked hopefully.

Amanda reached further into the hatch, bracing herself as she began pulling on components.

"Well, sure I do, Cayde!" She grinned sweetly through her exertion. "But they ain't for you."

"Oh, that hurts!" Cayde held up his hands in innocence. "My first jaunt outta the Tower in an Age, and Amanda Holliday is gonna make me drive a tugboat! I thought you knew me better than that."

"I do know you better than that," Amanda sighed, wrenching even harder. It looked like she was having trouble with some sticky components. If she were anyone else, Cayde would have offered to help. Amanda would just laugh at him for asking and swat him something fierce. The shipwright had a mean arm.

"I know better than to give my best ships to a Hunter with cabin fever, that's for sure. 'Specially if that Hunter is you — _augh! Dadgum piece of Dreg dung is stuck_!" She braced herself again and gave one more savage pull, nearly flying back into the wall. She grinned and held up a bundle of wiring.

"There we go."

She stood up and flipped the access panel closed with her prosthetic foot, stomping on it to seal it flush to the floor.

"Uh, isn't that important?" Cayde glanced dubiously at the wiring in Amanda's hand.

"Yup," she said nonchalantly, walking over to the jumpseat and leaning over the pilot console. The glow from the vidscreens and nav panels lit up her eyes and tousled blonde hair.

"So why'd you rip it out?"

"This here's the override for tracking," she answered him, still working at the console. "It's useful for shuttling City dignitaries around in secret."

"That does sound important."

"Yup. Important for me to have it, and not you."

"Dang."

Amanda finished her programming and stood, crossing her arms over her grease-stained work vest. Cayde swore she knew that when she smiled at him like that he couldn't be mad at her.

"Oh, what are you so sore about, Cayde? Isn't it good enough Ikora and Zavala let you out on your field trip in the first place? They could'a easily sent somebody else."

"I'm beginning to wish they had!" Cayde grumbled. "Amanda, I gotta travel with Master Rahool. _Rahool_!"

She laughed.

"He's not so bad, is he? I kinda like the Cryptarch."

"Not so bad? _Not so bad_?" Cayde spluttered. "Let me ask you somethin'. Who willingly stays in the Tower year in and year out? Who hides in those Archives all hours of the day? Rahool, that's who! The man is all business. There's not a ghost of a chance that he's gonna agree to a little bit of R and R while we're in the City. He'll just administer his little test and then want to go straight back to the Tower."

"Sounds like you could learn some of his work ethic." Amanda grinned, toying with the wires in her hand.

Cayde shook his head sadly.

"And here I thought we were friends."

"Keep working on that sulk." Amanda winked at him. "It's almost convincing."

"It is pretty good, isn't it?"

"Be nice, Cayde!" Amanda warned. "Go easy on the poor Cryptarch. Remember: I can override pilot controls so that only he can get you back to the Tower."

"Ha!" Cayde snorted. "Rahool? Fly _this_ thing? That'd be the day. We wouldn't even get off the ground!"

Amanda shrugged.

"Then I guess you'd be hoofin' it back to the Tower."

"You wouldn't dare." Cayde narrowed his eyes at the shipwright.

"Wouldn't I?" She answered cryptically. She moved to the back of the cockpit toward the passenger cabin and the exit.

"You're an evil, evil woman, Amanda Holliday!" He called after her.

"Bon voyage!" She laughed.

Cayde spun the seat around again and sighed. Why couldn't it be Amanda going with him? There was a straight-shootin' gal if he'd ever met one. _She_ would be up for some sightseeing. Maybe he could still convince Ikora to change her mind…

He turned around at the sound of footsteps, hoping it was Holliday returning. The Cryptarch bundled into the cockpit, a leather satchel stuffed to the brim slung on his shoulder and a datapad clutched in his hand. He wore official Cryptarchy garb, a long, light coat over earth-toned trousers. And, despite the day's heat, his ever-present cowl. Yep, Rahool was here to work. They exchanged cool glances.

"Settle in, Cryptarch," Cayde gestured to the cabin. "We've got a spell before we're cleared for takeoff."

"You're piloting?" Rahool asked.

"Of course! Who else?"

From Rahool's expression, he looked like he could name any number of people he'd rather see at the helm besides Cayde. No doubt Rahool thought he was going to make sure the ride was as bumpy as possible. Well, maybe he would if the man kept glowering at him like that! He wondered if Rahool practiced that stare down his big nose in the mirror every morning.

Without further ado, the Cryptarch retreated to the cabin. Cayde put his chin in his hands and stared disconsolately out the cockpit window into the Hangar. This was going to be a long trip.


	3. Turbulence and Light

The jumpship lurched over a pocket of warm air. Rahool gripped the armrests and glared at the cockpit door. Was Cayde _trying_ to make him airsick? He tried looking out his window, but the view just dazed him. It was one thing to enjoy the sights of the City from the safety of the solid Tower. It was another thing altogether to look at it from the air. Blessed Light, he'd never get used to flying! Ships in orbit were all well and fine. But in the _atmosphere_ …? All his considerable knowledge of physics couldn't put his mind at ease. Or his stomach. Blast it all! Couldn't Cayde avoid any of this turbulence? Why did the air have to be so choppy off the mountains in the spring? The Darkness take this whole afternoon!

He tried to relax and think about the day ahead. If they arrived on schedule — which wasn't looking to be a problem with the speed Cayde was taking them at — then he would have roughly forty-five minutes to meet with Dean Kamat and set up the testing space to his liking. These Cryptarchy examinations were all quite routine by now, but he liked the extra time to be prepared. He had to admit it was nice to be able to arrive by jumpship instead of taking the mag-train as he normally did. The trip was infinitely faster this way. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't prefer ground transport to this infernal machine. But Ikora no doubt thought that the less time Cayde spent in the City would be better for them all, and so she had arranged for shuttlecraft.

The Cryptarchy candidates didn't seem particularly promising this year. As the City College's semester wound on and Rahool corresponded with mentors, he had been disappointed to learn that, once again, the standards he set for admission into the Cryptarchy were not _quite_ being met. The College was slipping, no two ways about it. The board was always ready with excuses as to why they couldn't justify a certain subject or needed to spend less time on key topics like history. The Traveler save him, what were they doing down there these days? Once, they had actually managed to turn their dismal excuse for a school around. There had been a diverse program of study for all students, not just those looking toward the Cryptarchy. The Foundries had released their jealous grip on the school and allowed for exploration into peace studies and the arts with as much pride as their weapons manufacture and engineering programs. Lately, that position seemed to be reversing. It was starting to look like the bad old days all over again.

More than once the President had strongly intimated the College's desire for Rahool to join their ranks, to make the Cryptarchy a permanent installation of the College. The thought was tempting. The ability to shape that school to its potential was no small thing for him to consider...

But no. The Cryptarchy needed to remain at the Tower, close to the Guardians. Perhaps it wasn't always the ideal home, but it was the best he had. Even if that home meant constant dodging through the labyrinth of Tower politics. There were consequences to being in the City, too. How much harder would it be to avoid the Factions and their squabbles outside the Tower? And how much would the Warlocks sneer about how they always knew Rahool was going to give up?

"Hey, Cryptarch!" Cayde's voice crackled over the intercom. "Check it out! There's a pretty good view of the Traveler coming up starboard. Uh, that'd be your right side."

"I know what starboard means, you pretentious ass!" Rahool muttered.

He dared a look out the window as the jumpship banked in a long, gliding arc. The Traveler loomed into view, huge and blindingly bright in the midday sun. Looking at the enormous sphere day in and out for over thirty years had done nothing to diminish the wonder he felt each morning he set eyes on it again. Especially now, this close. Cayde was flying well away from the defense perimeter — the perpetual no-fly zone was meant to protect the Traveler from threats of destruction, as well as from overzealous tourists looking for a better view than from the monument below — and still this was the closest Rahool had ever been. They were flying high enough that, from his window, he couldn't see the ruin at the Traveler's south pole. Here there was only its ivory skin, crisscrossed with mysterious grooves and arcing lines, looking as delicate as the membrane of a bubble. He could almost imagine it was whole and well.

The sight cheered Rahool. His hands slowly relaxed their grips on the armrests. When he put a finger up to the window to trace one of those curious designs on the Traveler's surface, he startled at the sight of the Light over the back of his hand. Like all Awoken, Light crawled in little shimmering waves over the surface of his skin. For him, those waves were dim and fleeting, an echo of what they once had been long ago and far from Earth. At the moment, the Light on his hand was still faint, but the waves were now moving in little eddies and whorls. The Traveler was pulling on it like a magnet. He'd always meant to do a thorough study of his own on the subject, even though the Praxics insisted the phenomenon was well understood. Perhaps, with the Vault project going nowhere, he ought to try again...

Before long, the Traveler was behind them. Rahool sat back in his seat reluctantly. They were passing over the Inner City now, and that meant the trip was nearly over. The College rested almost directly opposite the Tower in the circular layout of the City at large. Their route had been as direct as possible. A trip that usually took over an hour was going to be accomplished in about twenty minutes. Remarkable mode of transportation, air travel. He supposed it was no wonder people preferred it.

Rahool leaned down to rummage through his satchel and double check that he had everything he needed. The ship rattled over another air pocket, sending his stomach into a flip. Blast it all! He'd rather _walk_!


	4. Keep Up

Cayde nodded in satisfaction when the jumpship touched down, light as a feather, on the College's personal airpad. Not too shabby, if he did say so himself. The transport ship handled like a tub of cement, but they had developed an understanding before the flight was over. He patted the console and stood up from the jumpseat. It was time to go check on his passenger. Rahool was probably in a state. Once, Cayde had seen a cartoon of a cat with all its fur on end, stuck to the ceiling by its claws in fright. That was probably an accurate description of the Cryptarch right about now. The man famously hated to fly. Not that there was anything to complain about with this flight. It had been as smooth as silk as far as he was concerned. It was a good thing Exos didn't sleep, because he was likely to have snoozed out of boredom at the controls. He shouldered his pack and left the cockpit.

Rahool's expression was dark when Cayde entered the cabin. Dark, and a little wan. He'd probably gotten airsick. Cayde definitely wasn't going to clean anything up.

"Thank you for flying Tower Air," Cayde said, entering the console command to open the cabin door. The ramp had hardly unfolded itself before the Cryptarch scuttled out. "We hope you enjoyed your flight, and remind you to tip your cab driver."

Rahool stood blinking in the bright sun, his expression still sour. Cayde held out his hand for his Ghost.

"Lock-up sequence?" He asked. She chirped smartly and interfaced with the ship's controls.

 **Done.**

"You're a peach. Hey, do you think Dolan's Place is still around?"

 **Follow the Cryptarch, Cayde.**

"Betrayal around every corner," he sighed.

 **Amanda's right. Your sulking is almost convincing.**

He poked her y-axis fin. She was ready for it, as always, and never lost her orientation in the air.

"You've got some kind of interlink feeding back to Ikora, don't you?" he said, craning to look into her cerulean eye.

 **If I did, I'd never tell.** She clicked, her version of a snort, and disappeared back to Rest. Little smart-alec. What the heck did the Vanguard send Rahool for when he had a goody two-shoes Ghost all ready to scold him like an angel over his shoulder? He turned back to Rahool.

"All right, we're good to go. Lead the way."

Rahool glanced at him as though he were suspicious about whether Cayde would follow him at all, then began to stride toward the College. The airpad was was not far from the campus center by the looks of it, and the Cryptarch seemed to know where he was going. The old brown-brick buildings loomed up, looking decidedly quaint tucked against the sleek steel and glass skyline of the Inner City. The College was one of the older institutions of the City. Newer buildings had cropped up on campus over the years and still these oldest halls remained. Cayde would bet glimmer they were headed right for one of them. A suitably stuffy old building for a stuffy old Cryptarch and his stuffy exams. These poor kids had no idea what they were in for, did they? It was a sin to be indoors on a sunny day like this. Positively a sin. The afternoon breeze wafting across his olfactory sensors smelled delicious. It smelled like freedom. It was all he could do to keep from tearing off across the grass.

Rahool was already poring through his datapad as they walked.

"Is that all you brought?" Cayde asked.

Rahool frowned and looked up at him.

"What do you mean?"

Cayde gestured at the leather satchel.

"I'm all for packing light, but that's not much of an overnight bag."

"Overnight…? What are you talking about?"

"Yeah. I thought we should spend the night in the City. Make the most of the trip. Didn't Ikora tell you?"

Rahool stopped in his tracks, golden eyes widening.

"What? No! That's not…that wasn't the plan!"

Cayde shrugged.

"You didn't think we would do this all in one afternoon, did you?"

"Of course not!" Rahool spluttered. "I just assumed we'd be going back to the Tower and starting again tomorrow!"

"You know what they say about assuming…"

Rahool's glare could have chipped diamonds.

"I didn't bring so much as a toothbrush!" He growled.

"Can't help you there," Cayde said. "Though I do have an extra shirt that might fit you." He patted his bag.

"No!" Rahool said. "No, no, no! After the examination we are going sraight back to the Tower. I simply can't stay overnight. I haven't arranged for any coverage in my absence beyond this afternoon!"

"Aw c'mon, Cryptarch! They're a smart bunch up in the Archives. They'll get by for a night."

Rahool grit his teeth. A muscle in his square jaw twitched.

"Besides," Cayde held up a finger. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one flying this ship."

Rahool's golden eyes narrowed to slits. He looked toward the jumpship with an expression that seemed to be seriously assessing whether or not he could quickly learn to pilot. Finally he threw his hands up in despair.

"I don't have time for this right now!" he growled. "We've got to get to the examination hall and meet with the Dean. We'll discuss this later!" Without waiting for Cayde, he stalked off.

Cayde shook his head. Shaxx might have been called The Bull, but it was the Cryptarch who could teach stubbornness. He watched him go and hesitated. Maybe this was a good time to slip away...

 **Keep up!** His Ghost chirped from Rest.

He just couldn't catch a break.


	5. My Word

There was an extra element of stress to traveling with Cayde, besides the Hunter Vanguard's foolish behavior. Traveling with a Guardian meant attracting all kinds of attention. Of course Cayde was wearing the accoutrement of a Hunter even outside of the Tower. He had a role to upkeep as a Vanguard leader — though, Rahool thought disdainfully, he could have at least chosen a shirt that wasn't so obviously patched up a dozen times. Even if Cayde had somehow been convinced to leave his well-worn cloak at home, there would be no mistaking him for what he was.

Rahool had learned long ago how to pick a Guardian out of a crowd. They practically screamed their presence, no matter how inconspicuous they were trying to be. He had to admit that Hunters were the best at blending in, at least until their fluid grace gave them away. Even an Exo like Cayde was no exception. Just the tiny servos and delicate plate seams in his fingers moved with far more ease than Rahool's own tired joints ever had.

Any hopes of just getting through the afternoon with as little to-do as possible were quickly dashed as they crossed the campus. Whispers and stares followed them from startled students. Many even outright pointed as they passed by. The Commons was filled with people milling about due to the fine weather, and their numbers began to increase as word quickly spread there was a Guardian in their midst. Cayde appeared to take it all in stride. If he was embarrassed at all, he gave no sign. Rahool rather thought he wouldn't be. That show-off was probably eating the attention up. This was probably one of his fantasies upon leaving the Tower, that he'd be recognized wherever he went and adored.

And adored he was. Even if they didn't know him as a leader of the Vanguard, the overwhelming excitement of a Guardian caused smiles all around. Students flocked around them, tentatively keeping their distance, most looking like they longed to reach out and touch Cayde's cloak or get a word in. That little bubble of space left in the crowd was another telltale sign that a Guardian was about. For all they were loved by the City, there was always that little bit of awe and fear that kept people hanging back. Only fools and the smallest, most curious children approached a Guardian outright. For a moment even Rahool could see Cayde through their eyes. The daggers at his hip suddenly leapt to notice — and those were just the ones meant to be seen. Any Hunter worth their salt had at least three or four secreted on their person. It wasn't easy to forget what Cayde was made for. What all Guardians were made for. The City loved their protection even while they feared it. He wondered if Cayde was reading that in their eyes.

Cayde nodded and waved at his fans as they made their way to the history wing of the Old Hall. Despite his earlier proclamations of boredom, Cayde seemed as interested in the goings-on of the College as it was in him. Perhaps a little too interested in some aspects, Rahool noted with annoyance. If he stared at those sorority co-eds in their summer shorts any longer he was going to crack a neck servo. Couldn't he show at least a _little_ tact?

Cayde followed him inside the Old Hall reluctantly. It was quite dark inside the narrow corridors and the air-cooling seemed to be absent as always this time of year. A few creaky, scratched windows were lodged open in a futile attempt to get a breeze circulating. When he'd chosen this Hall decades ago as the base of operations for testing, it had been a good deal newer. He supposed he could change location…yet there was just something so fitting about the first meetings with the Cryptarchy being in the established archeology and history wings. Katilyn and Riva may argue that attracting new Novices meant getting in touch with the times and all the infernal new technology that came with it, but he knew that a solid understanding of their shared past was the foundation for the Order. How could one know where they were going if they didn't remember where they had been? His insistence certainly had nothing to do with Katilyn's ridiculous assertions of his supposed "tech phobia." Bah! Even thirty years ago he'd been using Archiving tools that would make an experimental engineer salivate! It wasn't his fault City tech designs were so ridiculously unintuitive these days! Besides, some work was best done on good old data-pad. Or even pen and paper. Pen and paper couldn't run out of power.

Rahool glanced over his shoulder to make sure Cayde was still behind him. Blasted Hunters could be so silent sometimes! How they managed to sneak around with their garish cloaks was beyond him. Already Cayde was blending into the shadows between sunlit windows, without even trying. The bright blue lights of his eyes glanced with utter boredom over the glass cases of artifacts lining the corridors. Somehow each step of his was muffled on the tile floor. Rahool's own bootsteps sounded like wild horses running through the wing. With every step, he could hear his old dancing master's admonishments. _Lightness of step! Do not plod insolently through the room! Chin up, feet nimble, eyes bright! You soar above gravity!_ Well, the old man wasn't here, and he and his _nimble feet_ could kiss the rusty side of a hull for all he cared at the moment!

Dean Kamat's private office was located on the lower floor of the Old Hall, not too far from the grand lecture hall. He rather thought the Dean shared his sentiments about the building and therefore kept her study here despite the newer facilities that had eventually become available. Then again, the College was running out of space and didn't always have accommodations to provide. Still, this was her personal study he was taking them to and not the brighter, more open office in which she conducted meetings with students and the board. That she elected to spend time in this wing at all raised his spirits some for the students. With mentors like Kamat around, there was some hopeful outlook yet.

They arrived before the simple, frosted glass door. Rahool was uncomfortably aware of how much he was sweating. Cayde, of course, looked as cool as ice in winter. He stood at his ease and waited for Rahool to get down to business. Rahool knocked on the old wood paneling.

"Just a moment," a brusque voice called from inside the study. There was the muffled sound of shuffled papers and a creaking chair. A few moments later, the door opened.

Dean Kamat was a tall, severe woman with a refreshingly straightforward attitude. Her keen dark eyes took in everything at a glance behind her glasses. Everything about her was precise. Her silvery hair was pulled into a neat bun, her Collegiate robes were pressed and finely tailored, and behind her he could see her desk was well organized. He became even more aware of how hot and miserable he must have looked at the moment.

"Dean Kamat," he greeted her with a small bow.

Kamat took him in and her stern demeanor melted into a welcoming smile. Welcoming for Kamat, anyways. Her gaze still felt much like being pinned by a searchlight.

"Master Rahool! Welcome!"

Her glance flicked over his shoulder to Cayde, whom Rahool hoped was not being brutish. The last thing he needed was the bored Exo starting to fiddle with his knives, giving people the wrong idea. Her thin eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Guardian! I had no idea you would be accompanying the Cryptarch." She pressed a hand to her heart and bowed her head. Rahool glanced nervously at the Vanguard, hoping he could wipe that indolent look off his faceplates.

Cayde straightened up and tugged on the hood of his cloak.

"Ma'am."

Well, it was a start.

"This is Cayde-6," Rahool just remembered to introduce him. It was strange to have to do that. Everyone in the Tower knew Cayde. "He is the Vanguard leader for the Order of Hunters."

We are all honored by your visit," Dean Kamat bowed her head again. "Is it that time already?" she asked with a nervous laugh, still looking back and forth between Rahool and Cayde. The Guardian's presence was unsettling her. "It seems like just yesterday you were here to test last year's candidates."

"Indeed," Rahool smiled, trying to reassure the Dean. Perhaps if he just acted normal she would calm down. Blessed Light, what an inconvenience this all was! He would really give Ikora a piece of his mind when he got back to the Tower!

"Might I prepare in the lecture hall…?" He prompted.

"Of course, of course!" Dean Kamat turned to her office and shut out the lights, then locked the door behind her.

"Please, follow me." The last was directed mostly to Cayde. She seemed unable to relax despite Cayde's unassuming posture and welcomed silence. Some people just didn't take well to a Guardian's presence. It was one thing to hear about them on nightly news broadcasts or read about them in the papers. To have one standing before you…that took some getting used to. Light's truth, but it did.

Rahool walked side by side with the Dean down the hall. Cayde followed a few paces behind.

"I trust everything is all right," Dean Kamat spoke quietly. She looked like she dearly wanted to turn around to keep an eye on Cayde. Rahool knew the feeling, if not for the same reasons.

"We had an uneventful trip," he said, not sure what the Dean was getting at.

"Oh. I thought perhaps Guardian Cayde was here to address the rumors of the Trinary Star on campus."

Rahool blinked in surprise. The Trinary Star? Now there was a name he hadn't heard in a while!

"Not that I'm aware of," Rahool frowned, glancing back at Cayde.

The Vanguard shrugged.

"That's news to me," Cayde said.

Dean Kamat's smile was tight.

"Forgive me," she said hastily. "I thought the presence of a Vanguard meant these rumors had turned into something more substantial. Please, think no more of it."

"Has the Cult been giving you trouble?" Cayde asked.

Dean Kamat shook her head.

"Oh, no! Not really. There are supposed sightings now and then. A member tries to get on campus and preach their filth — ahem, they try to catch the ears of the students – every so often. The students themselves are usually the ones who throw them out, often before they can even be confirmed to be a Cultist. A few days ago there was some excitement that one had been caught distributing pamphlets near the library. Nothing yet has come of it." She seemed in a hurry to reassure them both. Or perhaps to reassure herself. The Trinary made most people jumpy, especially people of the College. The infamous rioting and bombing had happened right in front of that same library only ten years ago.

"Glad to hear it," Cayde nodded. "I'll keep my eyes open." Dean Kamat's tremulous smile was a touch relieved.

They made their way to the far end of the building from the Dean's office and turned into a large lecture hall. It was, in fact, the oldest lecture hall on the entire campus. The dais was marked with the College's seal emblazoned in gold leaf on the tiles. Not many knew that the same artists who had worked on this room had also been commissioned to work on the Tower's heraldry. Their touch was everywhere, from the seal on the floor to the scrollwork on the wooden crossbeams of the ceiling. It was perhaps a bit grandiose of an environment for testing a handful of students, but the room suited Rahool. If the students were a little awed…well, it was a momentous occasion, whether they knew it yet or not. An appointment to the Cryptarchy could quite literally change one's life.

"Here you are, Cryptarch," Dean Kamat gestured to the open seats. "As per usual, the students have already been informed where to meet. Their mentors will lead them here in approximately half an hour."

"Thank you, Dean," he bowed again.

"Let me know if there's anything you need," she said. She turned to Cayde. "You too, Guardian."

Cayde nodded and the Dean bustled out, leaving them alone.

"Think she'd get me a hall pass?" Cayde asked.

Rahool sighed.

"You might as well make yourself comfortable."

"I gotta stay here for the whole exam?!" Cayde cried.

"You didn't think I would let you wander around alone, did I?" Rahool stared at the Exo, arms crossed.

Cayde looked aghast.

"But this is gonna take hours!"

Rahool fought back a sneer. Oh, what a delicious turning of tables this was! Pull a fast one on him about spending the night, would he? Well, now Cayde could try this on for size!

"Isn't there a book in your overnight bag?" He asked mildly.

"Aw, come on, Cryptarch!" Cayde whined. "Have a heart! It's a shriveled lump by now, but I know it's gotta be in there somewhere!"

Rahool ignored him, busily unpacking his satchel on the podium.

"I'm just gonna get in the way!" Cayde was practically begging now, following him around as he set out prepared data pads and leather-bound booklets on a long table on the dais. "You know me. I'll be a distraction! The kids won't be able to concentrate!"

Cayde snatched up a roll of holoscrolls as Rahool reached for them. The lights of his eyes stared straight into Rahool's.

"The future of the Cryptarchy hangs in the balance. Do you really want to take that chance?"

Rahool held out his hand impatiently for the scrolls.

"What I want is to take no chances with you!" He growled.

"I won't leave the campus. You have my word!" Cayde continued to hold onto the holoscrolls. Rahool raised an eyebrow.

"I mean it! My word, Rahool. Not my promises — _my word_."

Rahool studied him for a long moment. Cayde put a lot of stock in his honor. But this was Hunter honor, which was notorious for being…flexible. Especially when it came to Cayde.

Truth be told, Rahool had no idea what he would do with him during the examination. Cayde was right when he said he'd only be a distraction. Any Guardian would cause a stir, and Cayde had a way of making his presence known even when sitting still. Could he risk letting him out of his sight? Blast it all, he didn't have time for this!

"Fine!" he snapped. "You can go."

Cayde sighed in relief.

"But I warn you," Rahool held up a finger. "If you leave this campus, or do anything more than sightseeing on the grounds, I'll report you to Ikora myself!"

Cayde shoved the scrolls into Rahool's waiting hand.

"Relax, Cryptarch! You got nothin' to worry about. So, uh, I'll swing by in a few hours, okay?"

"You'll tap on that lecture hall door on the hour every hour," Rahool said firmly. "So I know you're still around."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Cayde began to protest.

"It's either that or you sit right next to me and wait!"

"All right, all right! I'll tap on the door! Sheesh." He began to move off before Rahool could change his mind.

"I'll be listening, Cayde!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Cayde waved a hand over his shoulder and swept out of the room so fast the end of his cloak snapped the air.

Rahool sighed again to the empty room. This was definitely against his better judgment.


	6. Temptation

At ten minutes past the hour, Cayde tapped on the glass to the lecture hall door. A few of the dozen or so students glanced up in surprise and then immediately hunkered back down to their exams at a word from Rahool.

 **That was a close one** , his Ghost clicked. Her placid voice gave no hint of worry for his fate.

"You could'a given me a little more leeway with that time check," Cayde grumbled.

 **Oopsie.**

Oopsie his left metal buttcheek. Nothing amused her as much as watching him dig himself out of messes.

At the sound of the tap, Rahool looked up from his seat on the dais. Cayde waved and gave a thumbs up. For a moment, Rahool actually looked surprised. He had probably thought Cayde wouldn't actually comply with his ridiculous conditions. Or he'd forgotten all about it. He probably had, the miserable little...

 **Looks like they're far from done yet** , Ghost chirped.

"Yikes. D'you think he spends all night thinking up the most torturous questions imaginable?"

 **It's not supposed to be easy. Or should the Cryptarchy have low standards?** His Ghost asked with infuriating logic.

"I guess not. Well, I suppose this is good preparation for his reign of terror in the Tower. Hoo boy, these kids have no idea what they're in for! I bet they're hopin' and prayin' to get in. Maybe I oughta tell them to run while they still can."

Rahool's golden gaze swept over the students. He was the very picture of academic authority. He was probably loving every minute of it.

"Let's get out of here before he changes his mind about letting me roam," Cayde said. His Ghost had no comment as he walked away from the door.

The first hour had been relatively uneventful. At first, freedom had been its own entertainment. Able to go wherever he pleased without babysitting the surly Cryptarch, poking his horn into any corner he liked. Eventually, he realized that there wasn't much going on here that interested him this afternoon. He hated to admit it, but he was getting a little bored. What he really wanted to do was explore the City at large. The Cryptarch would be none the wiser so long as he could rap on that door at the right time. Somehow he didn't think his Ghost would stand by and let that happen. More walls. More restrictions. Trading one freedom for another…

…Which reminded him of the lecture he had been asked to give. When Ikora had presented the task, he was just happy to get out of the Tower. Hell, he would have volunteered to do Shaxx's laundry if it meant getting out! With a little more time to think about it, he realized it was also a cruel joke. Send Cayde to talk about staying within the City's Walls. Everyone knew he was itching to leave the Vanguard. Everyone knew he was frustrated pent up in the Tower. Damn. He must have really pissed Ikora off somehow. He would have to think over exactly what he'd done and how he could avoid her wrath next time.

Cayde drifted down the quiet halls. He'd spent the last hour circulating the edge of the campus, as if pressing the boundaries of his freedom would make him feel better. He'd had a notion to just be alone for a while and enjoy the solitude. Being in the Vanguard meant somebody was always wanting something at all hours. It meant reports, meetings, Zavala scolding him until a vein popped out on his neck. And it meant being chained to the Tower. Magnificent as it was, that damn spire began to feel a mite claustrophobic after a spell. Excepting his first days in the Tower as a young Guardian, he'd never spent so many days strung together in that place before he'd become a Vanguard leader. There were just so many _people_. It was hard for a body to think. Hard to remember that there was a whole world out there beyond the City. Beyond the Gap. He had been longing just for wide open space to stretch his legs and watch the horizon. The walk around campus wasn't quite scratching that itch, but it was a start.

Eyes followed him wherever he went even though he tried to be inconspicuous. Guardians were a rare sight outside of the Tower, save for a handful of established watering holes he'd known fireteams to frequent in the past. The curiosity of the City's people was intense; it made Ghost scrutiny feel like sheer privacy. He hadn't felt the stares and whispers following him for a very long time. For some reason now it made him uncomfortable, when before he used to be able to shrug it off or even welcome it. Let the people get a good look at Guardians, he would say. Let them know the Tower was there for them. Would they stop if they knew that this gross curiosity was one of the reasons Guardians made themselves scarce? Even the most attention-hungry Warlock started to prickle under the wide-eyed awe and fear.

Oh yes, there was fear. Wherever he walked, people clustered together instinctively. Safety in numbers from the wolf in their midst. He would have liked to think that once, long before he ever became a Guardian, he would have been able to walk the City unremarked except for the smiles and greetings of friends. Warm smiles and greetings, with no trace of terror.

Once again he was prowling the perimeter loop he had established earlier. If he turned off his arbitrary path and headed back toward the center of Campus, he'd be passing through some of the busiest thoroughfares. He hesitated, looking toward the soaring clock tower that marked the head of the library and then over his right shoulder to the campus borders, a gentle downslope of hills that met one of the City's wide, concrete-lined industrial canals. If he walked this side of that canal, he would _technically_ still be on College property. He looked back toward the library.

This was ridiculous. Here he was, a damn fool letting the Cryptarch tell him what he could and couldn't do, and worrying about getting singled out by a bunch of college students. What under the Light had happened to his backbone? Why hadn't he just taken off already, whether into the crowd or out toward the Walls?

 **You've got a message incoming** , his Ghost piped up.

"Lay it on me," he said.

He crossed his arms and looked back toward the canal. He'd bet a day's creds it was Rahool about to chew him out for having finished early and him not being around. Ghost clicked and chirped, accessing the interlink.

 **It's from Guardian Adama.** She sounded as surprised as Cayde felt.

"Adama?" Cayde grunted. "Isn't he still out in the Western provinces with his fireteam?"

Faint static hissed in his auditory circuits.

 **/Hey, Cayde!/**

Adama's pleasant voice, always a hair too loud, rang inside his head. He winced. His Ghost automatically adjusted for volume. It was a weird sensation to take interlink messages via a Ghost at Rest. Listening to the Hunter's voice in his head as though he too were a Ghost took some getting used to.

 **/I hear tell from some of the scouts at the Tower that you're on a little vacation. You rusty son-of-a-Dreg! If you don't take the time to say hello, me and my team are going to have our feelings hurt. No, this isn't a call for help. This sorry excuse for a mission is wrapping itself up nicely. I don't need to send coordinates, because you're the miserable Darkness-licking jerk who sent us out here in the first place to stare at crops and cattle. All right, gotta go! Some of us have real work to do!/**

The message ended. Cayde chuckled.

"Now, I _know_ I told him to keep comm silence," he sighed.

 **You did** , Ghost chirped. **Technically, this is interlink.**

"Technically, you're a little pain."

 **You haven't seen anything yet** , she clicked. **I haven't even begun to lecture you about how you should ignore Adama's invitation.**

"Uh huh. Why do I think that lecture is coming anyways?"

 **It certainly couldn't be because I know you, and that you would sell your own processors to get beyond the Walls right now.**

He snorted and shook his head. The little twerp was picking up more Hunter humor with each passing year. Bless her.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with dreaming," he retorted. "Don't tell me you aren't missing the wilds."

 **I miss the good old days when Shaxx dragged you around by the scruff of your neck** , she chirped sweetly. **And when the counsel of your Ghost actually meant something.**

He rolled his eyes. He was getting lectured all right. Her famous "good old days" rant.

 **But yes** , she suddenly conceded, **I wouldn't mind a campfire on the plains and counting the stars.**

"Aww, you little romantic, you!"

 **Not tonight, though. Tonight we have to stay with the Cryptarch.**

Cayde sighed.

"You know just how much to twist the knife in my side, don't you? You'll notice I haven't taken a single step outta bounds."

 **No, you haven't. I'll make sure Zavala gives you a treat for your obedience when you return.**

Cayde began to stalk off toward the library. Heading toward the canal and the Walls would just keep reminding him of Adama and his fireteam, out watching one of the City supplier farms to keep it clear of Fallen.

He really would sell one of his processors to get out there with those boys. It had been an Age and a half since he'd run any kind of ops with them. Maybe Rahool wouldn't be opposed to him meeting up overnight?

"You know, I bet I could make a fair bit of glimmer selling you to the College," he said to his Ghost.

 **Don't tease me!** She sighed. **I can only imagine the amount of pampering and respect I'd finally receive!**


	7. Time Waits for No One

Rahool stifled a yawn behind his hand and glanced around to make sure nobody had seen. One candidate remained in the lecture hall, still bent over his examination booklet, scribbling away. Blessed Light, when he had told the students that they could take their time, he hadn't really meant they should take all day! Perhaps he ought to start making a stricter time limit for these tests. After all, speed was as important as accuracy. A Novice learned that soon enough when an impatient Warlock loomed over them!

He glanced back down at his data pad, though his reading had not been holding his attention for some time. His thoughts kept straying to Cayde, and whether he was serious about having to stay in the City tonight. Cayde probably expected _him_ to cover the costs of a room. He'd make some excuse about how an Exo didn't need to sleep, therefore he didn't need to bother with accommodations! Or would he just propose sleeping on the jumpship?

He scrolled irritably through the pages on his datapad. It didn't help his focus that the reading was largely algebraic theory to do with hypothetical encryption methods. The encryption he could stand. The mathematics at this level tied his brain up in knots. It had never been his strong suit, and alas, it didn't look like it would become his strong suit any time soon. When he returned to the Tower, he really ought to find Tess Everis and have her look over the manuscript. It was just the sort of work she would find terribly interesting — if she hadn't read it already. Tess always seemed one step ahead on mathematical scholarship, even though she spent all her time devoted to Special Requisitions and working on her "secret" side project with Fenchurch. Somehow she always found time to study. The Traveler keep her, if only some members of his Order could find that kind of devotion! It was really a pity that she refused to join the Cryptarchy. How nice it would be to be able to bounce ideas back and forth without having to hunt her down, waiting for her to return to the Tower from wherever her mysterious business took her! Ah, well. At least she was always amenable to taking a moment of her time and helping him out whenever he could catch her. Such a pleasant young woman. He would have to actually schedule a time to get together if he wanted her full attention, however. This was a rather complex bit of theory in his hands. It didn't have to be anything too formal — there was no reason to make the meeting like a Consensus gathering! Just a casual, relaxed discussion where she could help him understand the trickier bits. Perhaps she would like to get coffee…?

The sensation of eyes on him made Rahool look up again. The remaining student quickly looked back to his exam. That wasn't the first time he'd felt he was being watched. Perhaps the boy was worried about how long he was taking. Rahool glanced at the wall clock. Well, if the he wasn't worried yet, he should start. Time was just about up.

"You have two minutes remaining," Rahool spoke up. His voice sounded too loud in the empty room.

The student looked up again and nodded once before returning to his work. His narrow, freckled face looked a little piqued. Rahool turned to the candidate list on the table beside him, looking for the boy's name. Jorin, wasn't it? Yes. Jorin Bjornsen. The family name seemed to ring a bell, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He definitely remembered the boy being introduced to him by his mentor. Doctor Raez could hardly have looked more proud to present his student to him. An engineering candidate was hardly newsworthy. Most of the Cryptarchy's candidates came from that school. But rarely had Doctor Raez made such glowing recommendations.

And rarely was a candidate so young. Jorin was only thirteen, not even out of his secondary schooling yet. A prodigious young man, Doctor Raez had called him. That remained to be seen. In correspondence with the Doctor, Rahool had seen Jorin's scores in his college credit classes. They were promising indeed, but not what he would call prodigious. He had seen young men and women pushed to study as hard as they could, forgoing time spent with friends, their youth passing them by. They often became ferocious scholars, but they could not keep up with the Cryptarchy. A lifetime of study didn't necessarily equate to being able to apply that knowledge.

Rahool watched the second hand glide toward twelve o'clock.

"Time!" he announced.

Jorin furrowed his brow and hastily scribbled the last word. He set his pencil down with a click and sat for a moment looking rather despondently at his booklet. Then he took a deep breath, ran a hand through his messy red hair, gathered up his materials, and approached the dais. Rahool stood and accepted the booklet and datapad.

"Thank you, sir," Jorin mumbled. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and watched nervously as Rahool placed his test with the others. The boy was very tall for his age and gawky, his school uniform a little too baggy in the shirt and a little too short in the trousers.

"You're welcome," Rahool replied. "The second half begins promptly tomorrow morning at ten."

Jorin nodded eagerly.

"Yes, sir. I'll be here, sir."

"Good."

Rahool began to clear the table, packing his things into the leather satchel. Jorin remained at the dais, hovering uncertainly.

"Um, excuse me, sir," he said. "You're Master Rahool, right?"

"I am."

Jorin's ears went pink.

"Uh, of course. Um, you…are you by any chance the same Rahool who worked with my father? Uh, Harald? Harald Bjornsen? He lived in the Foundry district…"

Rahool's eyes widened. Harald Bjornsen. Of course! No wonder the boy's name had seemed so familiar!

"Why, yes! I remember Harald. My, that was an Age ago! I had no idea you were his son."

Blessed Light, he'd had no idea Harald had even had a son! He must have remarried after his wife had died during the siege of the Gap. Jorin's ears went even more pink. He shuffled back and forth, looking quite embarrassed.

"He used to talk about you a lot. Uh, before he died. He said that, um, you helped us keep our house."

Rahool's heart sank.

"Oh. I'm sorry, lad. I didn't realize he had passed away." It was hard to imagine that giant of a man gone. Harald had been about Rahool's age when they met some twenty-five years ago. He too would have been an old man by now, but certainly not on his death bed! Mr. Bjornsen had been a formidable presence, yet incredibly soft-spoken. Jorin looked like he was going to be at least as tall as his father had been, if not more so.

"It's all right," Jorin said. "I didn't expect you to know. It was kind of sudden. Um, an accident at his factory a few years ago. But, uh, he told me that you were the one who rallied the District together to keep our neighborhood from being torn down. Um, I thought you'd want to know that our house is still there. Mother lives there. Everyone's house is still there, even though the Foundry Reps come around sometimes to try and negotiate."

"That's good to hear." Rahool smiled. It was good news. No doubt those representatives were still offering pitiful recompense in exchange for those plots of land, right in the heart of the Foundry district. Land they could use to build more factories upon.

"Anyways, mother told me to thank you for him if I saw you. So, um, thanks." Jorin continued to shuffle from foot to foot.

"Ah, well, I'm afraid my part in the whole ordeal has been much exaggerated," Rahool demurred. Blast it all, what kind of stories had this boy been told? Rallied the neighborhood? All he'd done was interpret a contract! A contract so convoluted it looked handed down from the Darkness itself…but still!

"Please send my regards to Mrs. Bjornsen," he said, trying to hurry the subject along.

"Yes, sir," Jorin nodded.

The boy seemed to catch his eageress to leave at last.

"Thank you, sir. Er, see you tomorrow, sir." He gave an awkward wave, put his head down, and strode out of the room.

Rahool watched him go and shook his head. The Traveler save him, how time flew! It seemed like yesterday Harald had been waving the Foundry contract in front of him, asking for help, a determined and angry look in his steel blue eyes. Now he was dead, and his teenaged son left behind. Rahool had not known at all. How much else had changed since he'd been at the Tower? The thought saddened him. Time waited for no one. But he should have _known_!

He sighed and finished packing up his belongings. He was suddenly quite tired. He had been administering the test for several hours. It was high time he found Cayde and —

His gaze bolted to the clock. It was half past the hour, and Cayde hadn't checked in. In fact, now that he thought about it, Cayde hadn't checked in more than once. The Darkness take that Guardian! Where in the Light had he run off to?

Rahool shouldered his satchel and stormed out of the room. How much would he bet that the jumpship wasn't even parked on the airpad any longer? Oh, if Cayde had stranded him tonight…!

Rahool's searching took him across the campus. His first stop was to peer down the slope to see whether the jumpship was still on the airpad. It was. That didn't mean much, though. Suppose Cayde had gotten hold of his Sparrow? Or had simply walked off? Nobody would think to stop a Guardian on the move.

He trudged down the elegant walkways toward the center of campus, passing through throngs of students, ducking into various halls and fountained alcoves along the way. Anywhere that might have been remotely interesting to a bored Hunter. He _could_ have sent a message through Ghost interlink to try and hail Cayde's Ghost. But then everyone at the Tower would know that he had lost his charge! He wasn't willing to admit that quite yet.

At last he stood before the student union building in the Commons, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his forehead. The blasted cowl kept the sun off his face, though not without adding considerably to the heat. The late spring afternoon was unseasonably warm. It was a good thing he had already gone through the first round of examinations. He couldn't imagine showing up in the state he was in now!

Rahool frowned and considered the union building. He had thought Cayde would be prowling outside in the fresh air. He'd even gone so far as to glance at the rooftops to see if Cayde had managed to climb the buildings. Perhaps instead he had opted to go where the crowds went...

One look inside and Rahool knew he was on the right track. The student union was a bright, airy edifice spanning several floors. The bottom entrance let into a handful of food stands and the bookstore, sweeping off to a cozy lounge and an arcade dominated by several worn pool tables and a couple of battered holocabinets. The floor was packed with excited students and more than a few curious faculty. People lined the stairways and railings of he second level, staring down toward the arcade where the crowd was elbow to elbow, clustered around the pool tables. Rahool pushed through, already knowing what he would find. People gave way reluctantly, even after setting eyes on the prominent golden symbols embroidered on his coat. So much for the gravitas of the Cryptarchy.

Cayde was leaning over a pool table, a weathered cue poised to strike as he considered his shot. He had his cloak's hood pushed back, and his bright eyes swept the table with cool confidence. Across from him, a young man stood against a tall stool and leaned on his own cue, watching intently. His friends nearly stood on top of him as they all held their breath in anticipation. The noise was terrific, what with the chattering crowd and the bass-charged music blaring from the sound system. None of it fazed Cayde. The Hunter calmly drew back his stick and struck the cue ball, sending it rocketing into the nine ball which rattled into the corner pocket. It was an impressive shot. Cheers erupted all around him. Even the young man and his friends were clapping and laughing. Cayde straightened up and waved nonchalantly to his admirers.

"Cayde!" Rahool called over the racket. He practically had to lean over the table himself to be heard. "Cayde!"

Cayde finally noticed him and did a guilty double-take.

"Hey, Cryptarch!" He said cheerfully. "I was just finishin' up this game here —"

"You didn't check in with me!" Rahool scolded. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"Oh. Ah…hmm. Well, I reckon I did forget. Sorry about that."

Cayde shrugged and walked around the table, readying his next shot.

"We had a deal, Cayde!"

"I've been right here!" Cayde said. "I haven't gone anywhere!"

"Well, it's time we were leaving!" Rahool crossed his arms, staring down the Exo.

"Lemme just finish this game. I'm finally on a roll! Leon here has been givin' me a run for my glimmer." He chuckled and considered his options on the table. The young man standing by looked like he might burst with pride.

"Cayde, it's been a rather long day…"

"Take a load off!" Cayde gestured at a nearby stool. "I got a reputation to uphold and glimmer to keep in my pockets."

 _Glimmer?_

Cayde!" Rahool caught Cayde's elbow. "You aren't gambling in the College, are you? Please tell me you're not!"

Cayde shrugged again.

"It's just a friendly little wager."

"Blessed Light!" Rahool hissed, lowering his voice. "It's a scandal, is what it is! Stop this right now!" He glanced around nervously. All they needed was the President to stumble into this mess. Imagine what the City news broadcasts would say when word got out that a member of the Vanguard had turned the College into a gambling hall! The Tower would have a hard time living that down. He himself would _never_ live it down. The Consensus would see to that!

"Aw, c'mon!" Cayde freed his arm and readied his shot. "You need to relax, Cryptarch!"

Hardly had he finished speaking than he had sunk another ball. The crowd roared. Cayde responded with a neat little bow and cloak flourish. Rahool grit his teeth. That boy and his friends had better back out now if they knew what was good for them. Cayde would clean them out! Unfortunately for them, it looked like they had no intention of stopping. Even losing against a Guardian would give them bragging rights for months on end.

Rahool stepped aside as Cayde swept by. He was aware of all eyes on the both of them, making him break out into a sweat again. Lectures were easy. Being the center of this kind of attention made him want to slink away to the jumpship. What a ridiculous, unbecoming position for Tower leadership to be in! Reluctantly, he waited off to the side, hoping that the match would end quickly and he could hurry Cayde out before this whole affair became even more of a sensation. Datapads were held up in the air while their users took pictures of the scene. Rahool winced and ducked further into his cowl, trying to turn away the Cryptarchy symbols on his coat with each flash.

At long last, Cayde stood at the opposite corner of the pool table from Rahool, studying the eight ball. It was all that remained. Leon had managed a couple of fine shots, but not enough to keep Cayde from taking over the game.

Cayde pointed down the table with his cue.

"Corner pocket, Cryptarch!" he announced. The crowd murmured their surprised approval. Rahool nearly raised a brow at that. The shot was dubious. Even he could see that, and he hadn't played in an Age!

There was a curious, buzzing hum in the crowd as they whispered their speculation to each other. Cayde took his time. Rahool was certain half of the stalling he did was purely for show. It was working. Students and faculty alike stared at the table like the Traveler itself was awakening — and a good handful stared at Cayde as though he were the Traveler incarnate. A few looked like they might propose to him on the spot! When excitement had reached its peak, Cayde swept down with all his fluid Hunter grace and made his move.

The eight ball flew off the cue ball with a crack and went rolling toward the corner pocket. All eyes followed its progress. A collective gasp rose as the ball started to slow. Cayde shifted uncomfortably. Rahool's eyebrow did raise this time. The eight ball shivered on the edge of the pocket, looking like it might just decide to stay put. Then, with a final wobble, it dropped in.

The crowd went berserk. Cayde lapped up the accolades, bowing and waving to all. He turned to Leon and shook the boy's hand. For his part, Leon looked like _he_ had won, and he looked a little faint to boot. He and his friends were all grinning as he reached into his pocket, presumably for glimmer. It was time to intervene.

"All right, Cayde!" Rahool called, plucking the cue stick from the Exo's hand and grabbing his arm. "It's time we were leaving!"

Leon looked surprised, holding out a fistful of glimmer.

"Keep it, lad!" Rahool waved his hand away. "Cayde was only joking!"

"Huh? Wait! No, I wasn't —!" Cayde began to protest, but Rahool was already dragging him away.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!" Rahool cried out to the crowd as he led Cayde away from the tables. "Please excuse us. Very important Guardian business to attend to!"

He grit his teeth in a tight, fixed smile. If Cayde decided to resist there would be nothing he could do to take him away from the crowd. Mercifully, Cayde followed, only slowing to wave and blow a couple of kisses. The crowd poured after them, clamoring to get a last look at the Guardian.

Cayde chuckled as Rahool pulled him along.

"Oh, yeah! Still got it! Did you see that shot, Cryptarch? Beauty!"

"I don't know who _didn't_ see it!" Rahool grumbled. For the love of the Traveler, he acted like he'd just fought off an army of Fallen, not played a simple game of pool! The Light preserve a Hunter's ego. They'd never know the sting of self-doubt for long.

"Why're you going so fast, Rahool? What's the hurry?"

"I want to get to the ship!" Rahool said, exasperated. He could still hear people behind them. They appeared to be the head of an impromptu parade.

Cayde took his arm away. Rahool prepared for a fight, but the Vanguard kept walking alongside him.

"I already told you that we're stayin' in the City tonight," Cayde said.

"We'll talk about that!" Rahool snapped.

"We're talkin' now…"

"I want to go somewhere without a blasted audience!" Rahool cried. "I can barely hear myself think!" That dreadful music from the arcade was still ringing in his ears. Was that noise what passed for music these days? The Light protect them all!

"Suit yourself," Cayde grunted. He gave no further argument. Perhaps he knew he had already pushed his luck. That didn't keep him from waving and flourishing all the way down the hill.


	8. Out

Even if Cayde wasn't worried about a bad report to Ikora, he still wanted to stay out of Rahool's way. The Cryptarch was grumpier than a newly-docked Dreg. Not much was going to appease him until he got back to the Tower and could burrow into his Archives like a miserable little mole. Not even the fancy hotel Cayde reserved for him — on his _own_ glimmer, thank you very much — made Rahool's foul mood crack open. The digs at this hotel, just a skip away from the College on the mag train, made even the Speaker's accommodations seem like a rusty shack in comparison. But would Rahool give him a break? No, sir. There was just no pleasing some people.

Not even his Ghost had escaped the Awoken's steely glare, though Rahool had been quick to forgive her when she apologized for losing track of time. Cayde knew better than to think there was any forgiveness left for _him._

Cayde leaned against the hotel room door while the Cryptarch set his satchel on the bed and surveyed the room with his usual snobby air.

"Does it please his Highness?" Cayde asked.

"I still don't see why we can't go to the Tower," Rahool grumbled. Cayde forced himself to stay quiet.

"No, actually, I do see why," Rahool said, turning to face Cayde with a triumphant sneer. "You know you won't be allowed out at all if we return and I tell everyone what happened today. They'll cancel the lecture altogether."

"Over a little game?" Cayde snorted. "Get real!"

"I just have to mention how you wandered off and Ikora will realize it's better to have you under the Tower's thumb than outside its walls." Rahool crossed his arms and put on his haughtiest lecturing look. He managed it too, despite being more than a little sweaty and tired looking. Was that pigheaded confidence an Awoken trait, or something that Rahool alone had mastered?

"Say what you will," Cayde said, putting up his hands in surrender. "You wanna go gettin' me into trouble? Fine. I'll stand by the fact that I did everything you asked. I got you to the College, I stayed on site, everything! Everything except for one measly little task of knockin' on your door, and that not through lack of trying!"

Rahool considered him a while longer. Cayde waited for the next tongue lashing. The old grump ought to just take a nap and let him alone!

The tension suddenly drained out of Rahool. He turned back to his satchel on the bed and started to unpack it.

"You're right," Rahool muttered. "You did do what I asked."

Cayde blinked in surprise. Was he hearing right? Was the Cryptarch really admitting such a thing?

"You pushed the bounds of propriety," Rahool went on, "But you did respect my wishes."

A begrudging compliment at best, but Cayde would take what he could get. Besides, he fancied that anything beyond sitting primly on a chair with a book was "pushing the bounds of propriety" for the Cryptarch.

"Well, that's mighty decent of you to admit," Cayde said.

"Just...please, Cayde. No more surprises, all right?" Rahool asked, turning to face him.

Cayde hesitated. He had been planning on telling Rahool about meeting up with Adama. Would that fall under the realm of unwelcome surprise? Maybe he should make sure the man was happy with his room and all set for the night before going down that path.

"So, uh…want me to scrounge up a toothbrush for you?" Cayde offered.

Rahool shook his head.

"That won't be necessary. The concierge has what toiletries I need on hand."

"Wanna order some food? I hear there's a real good taco joint a couple of blocks away. It's a hit with the College kids."

"I'll attend to dinner shortly," Rahool said, beginning to sort through the booklets he had piled on the bed.

The Cryptarch was a finicky eater and would want to check out everything for himself. Cayde thought that maybe he wouldn't be so grouchy all the time if he didn't eat such a bland diet. Rahool looked at a burger or a steak like it was going to bite him back, opting to pile his plate with some greens and bread and little else. It drove the Tower head cook insane, much to Cayde's amusement. Few things were funnier than watching the song and dance of Ella trying to force Rahool to choke down a good pot roast and Rahool trying to extract himself from the situation without angering the formidable woman. She was just about the only person in the Tower who could lecture the Cryptarch until he slunk off with his tail between his legs. If only she could teach him her secret!

"What are your plans for the night?" Rahool broke into his thoughts, still looking through the booklets. "Have you started pracicing your speech yet?"

"Uh…" Cayde hedged, looking out the tall balcony windows. "I know what I'm gonna say."

He could feel Rahool's disapproval from across the room.

"You'd better give it some more thought," Rahool admonished him. "It's an important subject."

"You don't say," Cayde replied dryly.

Rahool looked up from his work and frowned at him.

"You can't just wing this, Cayde! You'll have a room full of people expecting advice from a Vanguard leader. How bad is it going to look if you're searching for words or rambling on? Or are you just going to tell jokes all night?"

So much for putting the Cryptarch in a good mood. He'd rather deal with grumpy Rahool than full-blown Master Rahool, the world's know-it-all!

"Just a few jokes," he said. "No sense scaring the people with a fire and brimstone lecture on the Walls."

"Maybe that's what they need," Rahool challenged. "A good scaring. So what are you going to say?"

"Easy. Go to school, eat your vegetables, and stay in the Walls so you don't become Dreg snacks. See? No big deal."

"Cayde!"

"Aw, give it a rest, Cryptarch!" Cayde groaned. "I ain't one of your Novices to order around. I got a lecture in mind, okay? Don't worry. I'll make us all look good."

He'd had it up to his orbital sockets with the man's bossiness. Cayde turned to the door to let himself out.

"Where are you going?" Rahool demanded.

"Out," Cayde grunted. "I'll meet up with you in the hotel lobby in the morning."

"But out _where?_ " Rahool pressed.

"Somewhere fun!" Cayde said. "You remember fun, right?"

Rahool's look was withering.

"I really think I should know where you'll be."

Cayde shrugged.

"Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so I guess you're plumb outta luck. If you want to come along, you'll find out. But, just to warn you, it might offend your delicate propriety."

Rahool looked as sour as if he had sucked on a lemon. Cayde shut the door behind him quickly.

 **Good talk!** His Ghost piped up.

"Can you believe his nerve?" Cayde growled. "You'd think bein' a Vanguard would net me some respect once in a while!"

 **You know Master Rahool. Hard to impress.**

That was for damn certain. Cayde stalked down the hall to the elevator, punching the button a little harder than was necessary. The couple that strolled out of the car gave him an extra wide berth, smiling nervously. His bad mood was showing and he had no intention of hiding it. Leaving the Tower was turning out to be not worth the trouble he had had to put up with so far! He would have to seriously get back at Ikora for this.

Cayde leaned against the car railing as the elevator doors slid shut.

 _"Where are you going?'"_ He sneered, mimicking the Cryptarch's precise accent in an unkind drawl. _"What are you going to say in your speech?_ That guy's worse than my own mother!"

 **You don't remember your mother,** his Ghost clicked.

"Well, if I did, he'd be worse! Geez, you wanna be his Ghost or what? You been takin' the Cryptarch's side all day!"

 **If you're so eager to get rid of me, at least give me to someone who won't bore me to death!**

Her adamant refusal chipped away at his gloom.

"You sure?" He asked. "If we go back to the room now, you'll be just in time to grade exams."

 **Ooh, a tempting prospect. Do you think he'll turn the vidscreen on so we can watch the City Senate proceedings too?**

"Only if you're in bed by eight."

His Ghost's tinkling laugh brightened his spirits even more. The poor little thing was itching for some more fun after the games at the College. She hadn't even scolded him for leaving the hotel room.

"Send a message to Adama's Ghost," he told her as the elevator slowed and came to a stop at the lobby. "The mission should be done by now. Let's see if we can't get a little reunion going."


	9. Repeat

Rahool propped his datapad against the hotel desk lamp and used the touchscreen to dial into the Cryptarchy's comms panel. The blue screen pulsed as it waited for an answer back at the Tower. A few moments later, the video feed switched on. Katilyn came into view, holding a takeout container and a pair of chopsticks. The Traveler keep that woman, he was glad she was the Cryptarch on Archive duty tonight.

"Rahool!" Katilyn cried. "There you are!"

"I'm sorry for the delay," he sighed. "It's been a rather hectic day."

"I got your message about an hour ago," she said. "We were all getting worried when you didn't show up for the afternoon Novice training. What's going on?"

He rubbed his eyes. Blessed Light, he was tired! He was certain he looked a mess despite the evening shower he'd taken. The water had done some good, but he still had only the same clothes to wear. And the water could do nothing about the fatigue under his eyes or the frown that seemed permanently stuck on his face. He'd thought about sending his cowl, waistcoat, and jacket to the hotel dry cleaning, only to decide against it. Suppose something happened to the garments? Without having brought a change of clothing, he'd be stuck wearing his shirtsleeves for the lecture! Instead they hung neatly in the closet, hopefully airing out from the day's exertions. Katilyn was one of the few whom he didn't mind witnessing his informality. They had known each other too long for him to be much bothered by it anymore.

For her part, Katilyn looked as put together as ever despite his unexpected absence. Her cowl was pushed back as always, revealing her sleek blonde hair tidily clipped out of her face. She held the chopsticks in manicured hands and jabbed at her dinner, waiting for his answer.

"Cayde neglected to inform me that we would be staying in the City overnight," Rahool explained. "Why Ikora agreed to such a thing, I can't imagine."

"She probably wanted him out of her way as long as possible." Katilyn smirked, slurping up some noodles. "How kind of you to give her some peace and quiet tonight."

"Hmph! Believe me, it's not by choice. Cayde refuses to pilot the jumpship back. I know he thinks he'll get replaced by another Guardian if he returns."

"Where is he?" Katilyn asked. "Is he there with you now?"

"Hardly!" Rahool snorted. "He's gone out, to the Light knows where until who knows how long. The Darkness take me if I give a damn anymore!" He took a calming breath. "Pardon my language. Like I said, it's been quite a day."

Katilyn's smile was both understanding and amused.

"Sounds like it."

"Anyways," he said, changing the subject, "how are things at the Archives?"

"Everything's fine and dandy here," Katilyn waved her chopsticks dismissively at the screen. "You don't have to worry about us. It's a quiet night. So slow that Riva was able to go out and get us some lo mein. She's just finishing up going over details of that Golden Age art exhibition with the City Gallery's curator."

"What am I doing?" A voice asked off screen. Katilyn turned. A shorter woman with dark hair waving down her shoulders stuck her face into view.

"Hi, Master Rahool! Where have you been?"

Riva was carrying her own takeout container and pulled up a chair next to Katilyn. The two exchanged a quick kiss in greeting.

"He's vacationing in the City for tonight," Katilyn grinned knowingly at Rahool. "While Cayde gallivants around before his lecture tomorrow."

"Somehow I doubt Rahool is thinking of it as a vacation," Riva said, pushing back her cowl and opening her takeout. Her large brown eyes sparkled with sympathy for his plight. Riva's teasing was always a little less sardonic than Katilyn's. Through the years her shyness had never completely disappeared, though it didn't ever seem to interfere with her work as a Cryptarch.

"How did the exams go?" Katilyn asked.

"Well enough," Rahool said. "I'm not holding my breath, however."

"You think we'll go another year without a new Novice?" Riva chimed in.

"There's got to be at least one prospect!" Katilyn said, nearly at the same time.

"It's too soon to tell," Rahool admitted. "Though I can say that at least half of today's applicants can be ruled out. You've never seen such a dismal collection of test scores! I think the College has completely lost all sense when it comes to preparing for the Cryptarchy!"

Katilyn and Riva exchanged knowing glances. He bristled with irritation. They merely kept eating. So what if this wasn't the first time they'd heard this lament? It was true! More so every year!

"You always say the first part of the test isn't the best indicator of success," Riva said kindly. "Give them a chance to present their demonstrations tomorrow before you worry too much."

Katilyn nodded in agreement with her wife.

"Just relax tonight and enjoy being away from the Archives," she said. "We've got everything under control."

That wasn't boasting on Katilyn's part. She and Riva were among his finest and most trusted Cryptarchs. They would indeed keep everything in order until his return. But relaxation was likely not going to happen.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll keep you informed of my return."

The women waved and said their goodbyes. The video feed disconnected.

Rahool ran his hands through his short hair, resting his head against his palms. Perhaps he should have told them about his new correspondence from the College. The letter had arrived shortly after Cayde had left him at the hotel. Another offer from the President to join the board and teach at the campus. Another request to bring the Cryptarchy into the City. It could be helpful to hear their opinions on the matter. And yet…oh, Blessed Light, he just couldn't decide!

The College could use the Order's guidance, that was for certain. Bringing the Cryptarchy away from the Tower opened up the Archives to the City at large — at least, the parts of the Archives that weren't meant to be restricted — without having to fit his studies and schedules in with the Vanguard and the whims of Guardians. Just the prospect of not having to sit through another blasted Consensus meeting was tempting enough!

Rahool stood from the desk chair and walked slowly to the tall balcony doors. The shades were drawn back from the glass, revealing the sparkling view below the hotel. The City was aglow with lights and the last rays of the sun sinking behind the horizon. He was so used to the familiar sights from the Tower that for a long time he just looked at the City as though he had never seen it before. Despite his regular trips to the College, he'd never actually spent much time in this District. There were still others that he barely had even glimpsed from the mag train, let alone set foot in himself. All this time, and there was still so much to see and to do. It irked him to admit it, but he could see where Cayde's desperation to leave the Tower came from. Freedom to come and go was important. Blessed Light, he should know that more than most!

But their work was important too. They couldn't just leave it. Could they?

Cayde was stuck as a leader of Guardians. Everyone knew about the Vanguard Dare, even if they didn't know the specifics. His own knowledge of Cayde's succession to the position of Hunter Vanguard was gleaned from rumor passed down from Zavala and by amused Guardians who chatted with the Cryptarchy at the time Cayde reluctantly assumed leadership. Cayde always grumbled that he wasn't cut out for the job, not like Andal Brask had been. Well, the Light save them, that was true...

...To a point. Brask had possessed remarkable patience for a Hunter. His keen eye for strategy often rivaled Zavala's. He was personable, friendly, and approachable. He rarely boasted, not even through wild cloaks. The worn, muted fabric Cayde wore in remembrance was the most elaborate cloak the man had owned. Brask was long gone, and now there was Cayde: obnoxious, temperamental, capricious, and too blasted reckless.

And somehow, he was exactly what the Hunters needed. What the Tower needed. His scouts were some of the finest in an Age. It was perhaps foolhardy sending Guardians off regularly into the wilds when the Darkness crept ever closer to home, yet even Rahool couldn't argue with the painstaking data they brought in to the Cryptarchy to create the dead zone maps and the scads of new engrams and Golden Age artifacts they claimed as souvenirs. Cayde took risks, big ones, and they so far had paid off. How much longer his luck could hold was anyone's guess. Rahool rather thought it was in infinite supply at this point. _He_ certainly wouldn't get away with half the stunts Cayde pulled! The Cryptarchy was a tightrope walk to this very day. There could be no room for error lest everything he had built disappeared in one rash instant.

Rahool stared out, lost in thought. His fingers unconsciously went for the thin chain around his neck and the little medallion hanging on it.

And what was holding him to the Tower? Was it time to let go of the Cryptarchy? Was it really as Petra had said, that he'd traded one gilded cage for another? He'd had such high hopes all those years ago, standing in the neglected Archives wide-eyed and with no clue where to begin. He — no, _they,_ all the dedicated people of his Order — had built something fine. But what had they built? The monument to scholarship and shared knowledge that he had dreamed of, or a monolith of hoarded secrets caught up in Tower politics?

Whom did the Cryptarchy really serve now? It was looking less and less like the people of the City. Just one look at the dismal state of the College proved that. If he could take that old fire and reforge the City's education, would there be need of a Cryptarchy anymore? Exams and high standards were all well and good until it became clear that nobody could meet them. He could seethe about lazy students and disinterested board members…or he could admit that his Order was becoming more insular each year. Oh, Blessed Light. History really was doomed to repeat itself.

For a long while he watched the City. Airships crawled across the sky, backdropped by the huge orb of the Traveler. Its shell went from glowing orange to pale blue, until all the floodlights and City streets below it lit its scarred underbelly in stark relief. On the desk, his datapad softly beeped the hour, rousing him from his thoughts. It was time to be getting back to work. Those exams were not going to grade themselves. He let the medallion fall against his thin shirt. It hung heavier than ever, a cold weight pressing against his chest like doubt.


	10. The Only One for the Job

"So, Damask looks down his scope and he says: "Oh, _that's_ the Captain? I thought that was the farmer's _wife!_ "

Adama roared with laughter at his retelling and pounded the bar table. Cayde joined his laughter, slapping the Hunter's back and then Damask's. On Damask's other side, the Titan Zeke snorted into his beer. Damask grinned and shrugged, shaking his head of wavy black hair. He was soft spoken compared to his fireteam mates, but good humored all the same. Good humored for a Warlock, anyways.

"What can I say?" Damask shrugged. "She was a force to be reckoned with. She made quite an impression."

"Yeah!" Adama grinned, poking a finger on the tabletop for emphasis. "She about made an impression in Zeke's cranium when she caught him skulking around the windowsill where the pies were cooling!"

"I was just keeping the flies away!" Zeke protested. His sparkling hazel eyes and lopsided grin belied his excuse. "Anyways, nevermind me! She was gonna _skin_ Damask if her daughter looked at him one more time!" He nudged Damask with a beefy fist. "Poor Damask had to hide behind a hay bale every time that girl found an excuse to come by!"

The friends erupted into gales of laughter again. Damask's narrow face flushed. He had a perpetually youthful look to him, with dark soulful eyes that never failed to attract attention. That attention always seemed to surprise him — even though it didn't always stop him from taking advantage of it. The Warlock had left a rather impressive string of broken hearts in his wake.

Adama laughed, wiping his eyes.

"This wasn't so much of a mission as it was a vidscreen comedy! That little skirmish with the Fallen on the edge of the fields was the only action we saw all week. Unless you want to count stepping in cow pies and helping the goodwife wrangle chickens."

"Don't look at me!" Cayde said, knocking back a shot of synesthete. "Zavala was the one who was convinced there was an attack imminent."

"It sure wasn't this farm they were after," Adama sighed, shaking his head. "This was about the most backwater establishment you could find and still be within the bounds of the Gap. Not even a Dead Orbit scrounger would be interested in it! If the Fallen are planning something, they're planning it for somewhere else. The ones we did encounter only came by to see what three Guardians were so interested in. Ha! Joke was on them!"

"Well, you done good," Cayde said. "You got ol' Zeke off his behind and exercisin' something other than his appetite."

Zeke raised a bushy eyebrow as he devoured a basket of steaming fried fish. Adama cackled and excused himself to go to the can and place another order at the bar.

Cayde sat back in his creaky wooden chair, stretching his legs out and crossing his boots at the heel, his hands behind his head. Damn, but it felt good to get out among people who understood him! His bad mood from before had long since evaporated from good drinks and good company.

Dolan's Place was alive and kicking. The hole-in-the wall bar was literally just that, a little tavern nestled within a section of the City's Wall on the eastern boundary. It was exactly the atmosphere Cayde was craving aside from the wide-open wilds: no nonsense, greasy food, potent synesthete, and filled with Guardians and citizenry who didn't expect him to act like a Vanguard at all hours. Most of the patrons were Titans who'd drawn Wall duty, but occasionally City security and nearby vendors showed up.

The owner and sole bartender was a wiry Exo named Fianna. Legend had it she'd bought the joint off of old Dolan years ago when he'd made his fortune in the mines and decided to retire. The name had remained despite the business changing hands. Fianna wasn't much for ceremony. Besides, everyone already knew it as Dolan's. Why fight a good thing?

The already lively atmosphere had gone up a couple of notches at Cayde's arrival. Everyone was surprised to see him outside the Tower. Fortunately for him, what happened at Dolan's stayed at Dolan's.

He looked around cheerfully, taking in the warbling jukebox and the vidscreens tuned to programming no one was really paying any attention to, the low-slung lamps and the equally low-slung necklines of the female members of the waitstaff. Fianna sure knew how to find a good-looking gal to serve her drinks. Good looking guys too, for that matter. Fianna appreciated a beautiful staff, be they man, woman, or Exo. Off to the side of the table, their Ghosts hovered, chirping and buzzing away in the Ghost language. His Ghost looked about as happy as she could be, blue eye bright and fins bristling with all the excitement. Yep, it was good to be back.

Adama reappeared and wove through the crowd with a server at his side. They bantered while they dodged an overzealous Titan arm-wrestling competition that spilled beyond the confines of its groaning table. The handsome young man set the drinks and Cayde's synesthete in front of them with practiced ease. Damask murmured his thanks, his dark eyes lingering on the server for a little longer than necessary. His face was going red again. Cayde raised a brow plate. Not more than two hours back in the City and Damask was already making eyes. Come to think of it, most of those broken hearts the Warlock left behind happened right after missions. He would be willing to bet Damask wouldn't be spending tonight alone. If that server didn't fall for him, there was surely a line of hopefuls stretching out the door that would wait for their turn.

"Tell me about this lecture of yours, Cayde," Adama said, taking his seat and snatching up his beer. "I still can't believe Zavala or Ikora let you out of their sight. Mighty trusting of them to let you prowl alone."

"I'm not alone," Cayde sighed. "They put as good a watchdog on me as any."

"Little princess over there doesn't seem to be too strict about your choice of overnight accommodations." Adama nodded toward Cayde's Ghost.

"Oh, it wasn't her they charged," Cayde said, drawing out the reveal. He anticipated their reactions were going to be worth a laugh or two. "You'll never guess who. Not in a million years."

"What? You manage to get Holliday to come along?"

Cayde grunted, spinning his synesthete glass around on the tabletop. Adama liked to tease him about the shipwright. The guys were looking for things that weren't there. Although lately, every time he and Holliday met, he always left feeling that she had wrapped him up in his own cloak and spun him around like a top. Of course, he wouldn't ever tell that to Adama.

"Nah. That would be too kind. Guess!"

Adama, Zeke, and Damask exchanged glances. Adama shrugged.

"Rahool." Cayde dropped the name like a ton of bricks. He looked around the table with satisfaction at the results.

"The Cryptarch?" Adama spluttered. He looked like he would believe tales of a tap-dancing Thrall over what he'd just heard. Damask shook his head pityingly. Zeke chortled through a mouthful of fish, pointing at Cayde like the very idea of Rahool accompanying him on this trip was the funniest joke in the world. Cayde supposed it kind of was. But funnier to someone other than himself right now.

"The Master Cryptarch is babysitting Cayde-6?" Adama cried, waving his hands in the air and nearly smacking a couple of passerby in the face. "You ditched him first thing, right?"

"Eventually."

His friend's looks were dubious.

"What? I had to make sure he was all settled in at the College. After all, they put _me_ in charge of watching _him._ "

"Smart." Damask nodded. A knowing smile tugged on the corners of his lips. "Ikora's learning."

"Learning?" Cayde echoed. "What're you talkin' about?"

"No better way to keep Cayde at a task he doesn't want than to butter him up and make him think he's the only one for the job." Zeke grinned at Damask.

"The only one for…hey, wait a minute! You guys have got it all wrong!" Cayde protested. "I just stayed at the College 'cause I had to play along a little bit. That's the only way I could get any freedom to come and see you sad sacks tonight!"

"Uh huh," Adama snorted, taking a long drink of beer.

"I was wondering why you weren't in the field with us two minutes after Adama sent that message," Damask said.

"I told you, I was busy!"

"Rahool isn't gonna come barging in here and drag you back to the ship, is he?" Zeke grinned.

"Pfft! No way!" Cayde snorted. "Rahool's allergic to a place like this! Besides, I left him at a hotel. He's busy with those Cryptarchy exams and probably has forgotten all about me by now."

"Too bad," Adama grinned. "I'd pay good glimmer to see that confrontation."

"You wouldn't laugh if you knew what it was like," Cayde grumbled. "I can't take two steps without him immediately becoming suspicious."

"I can't imagine why," Zeke said sweetly. "Our buddy Cayde is just as meek and mild as a Resting Ghost on a hot afternoon. Never puts a foot out of line."

Damask and Adama chuckled. Cayde answered with a not so polite gesture. It only made them laugh harder.

"What I really don't understand is why Ikora and Zavala sent you to give the lecture on staying within the Walls," Damask said after their mirth had calmed down and they had wet their palates with their drinks.

"I'd call it a joke," Adama said, "But I think Ikora really wants it done. I saw the event announcement on City news coming back into the Walls."

"Oh, she's definitely mocking me," Cayde said, toying with his glass again. "I'm sure she and Zavala figure I'll eat crow throughout the speech, gettin' folks all fired up to do their civic duty and whatnot."

"And what's Rahool's role in all this?" Zeke asked.

"The Cryptarch? He's the failsafe in case I decide puttin' up with lectures on captivity is tolerable. He ruins my fun so I don't look forward to anything but reports and requisitions in the Tower from here on out."

"That's a heck of a conspiracy you've got going on there," Adama mused.

"Wonder if Ikora's evil scheme will work?" Zeke grinned.

"You know what you're going to talk about?" Damask asked.

Cayde shot him a dirty look. The Warlock couldn't have known that Rahool had needled him on that very point. That didn't make the question any less exasperating.

"Near enough," Cayde said. "I've got some notes scribbled down. It can't be that hard. Just go in, say my piece, and be done. Folks can do with it what they will."

"How inspiring." Damask's tone was dry.

"Why'd you take the job if you don't really want to do it?" Zeke asked. He actually sounded sincere, for once not ribbing Cayde. "They could have found someone else eventually."

"I had to take what means of escape I could get," Cayde said. "I'll put up with this mess if it means a few hours outta that Tower."

"It's the Vanguard Dare all over again," Adama mused.

"Nah. That's different." Cayde looked Adama square in the eyes. "You know that. The Vanguard Dare really is duty. This is just…I dunno." He shrugged and took another drink of the synesthete. The mood went introspective around the table.

"This is just you looking for a good time," Adama said. "They keep you busy up there with distractions, and keep you away from the real work. It's not right." That was perhaps more ribbing, but it was also his way of apologizing to Cayde for poking fun at the Dare.

"Do you have to go right back to the Tower after the speech?" Damask asked.

"You betcha. At least, if ol' Rahool has his say."

"Why don't you set him on a jumpship back to the Tower and join us?" Zeke asked. "We're planning on a sweep of a couple other farms."

"I piloted one of the Tower transports to the College," Cayde said. "Rahool would be stranded. Not that that's my problem, or anything."

"So commission another pilot," Adama suggested. "I bet there's a Security Frame that could handle the transport. I could ask around here."

"Let's not worry about that right now," Cayde said, raising a hand to get the attention of Damask's server friend. "I don't wanna talk about work anymore. The night is young! C'mon, tell me more about this comedy of errors I sent you on…"


	11. Carnival

_I'm going to kill him! I'm going to wring his blasted neck until his eyes pop out! Leaving this lecture high and dry…of all the selfish, irresponsible, lazy things for Cayde to do..!_

Rahool fumed while he paced in front of the auditorium doors. There was just fifteen minutes to go until Cayde was due to be seen onstage. People had been steadily arriving at the College for the past hour to hear him speak. Several primary school classes had already paraded by. College students with free time were filing in the doors to grab a seat. The atmosphere was carnival. It didn't matter to the audience what the topic was, so long as a Guardian could be seen today. Cayde could have talked about _anything_ — classical physics, dog training, even toenail fungus, for the love of the Light! — and the hall would be packed. Rahool tried not to think about how extreme their disappointment would be if Cayde did not show up. Especially since he was the only one around they could take their disappointment out on…

Jorin stood nearby, looking around the Commons for any sign of the Hunter Vanguard. The boy had been last to demonstrate in the second round of exams, and Rahool had been so blown away by what he had seen he almost forgot all about the fact that Cayde had never shown up in the hotel lobby that morning. Rahool had bade Jorin to come along with him to the auditorium so they could discuss some of the finer points of his demonstration, hoping he could keep himself occupied enough to keep from throwing a fit. It was tough trying to keep calm in front of Jorin while inwardly he panicked about Cayde's whereabouts. Nevertheless, the boy was picking up on Rahool's agitation.

If the crowd was going to be disappointed, Ikora and Zavala were going to be outraged. They would give Cayde an earful, no doubt. Then they would turn their anger upon _him._ The Traveler save him, they'd forbid him to leave the Tower too! He'd be stuck just like Cayde! The Cryptarchy would be shamed beyond belief! He'd be the butt of every Warlock's joke until the next Age!

"Sir! I think I see him!"

Rahool turned abruptly to see Jorin pointing excitedly down the Commons. It only took a moment to pick Cayde out of the stream of people heading their way. He strode up the concrete path, cloak flaring behind him, Ghost at his shoulder. Rahool let out a sigh of relief. At this point, he didn't care if Jorin heard. He also didn't care if Cayde saw the murder in his eyes. As soon as the Exo drew near, Cayde could see that he was in trouble. He sauntered up, hands resting on his belt.

"Heeey, Cryptarch — "

"Give me one good reason not to call Ikora this very minute!" Rahool snapped.

Cayde raised his hands in supplication.

"I know! I know! I messed up. I'm sorry I'm late. But, uh, you shouldn't call her because I'm here now. So…you won't call her, yeah?"

Jorin looked between Cayde and Rahool with awe. Rahool wasn't sure what the boy was more impressed by, a real Guardian standing before him or an enraged Cryptarch daring to holler at that Guardian.

"You made yet another deal with me," Rahool seethed. "And this is the second time you've broken my trust! Do you realize what kind of a mess we could have been in had you not shown up in time? Where in the Light have you been?"

The crowd shuffling into the auditorium was now staring. He knew he was making a scene, but he had reached the end of his rope. Cayde's Ghost flitted over to Rahool.

 **It's my fault,** she chirped disconsolately. **I should have roused him sooner. You see, he'd had a bit too much synesthete at the Wall. I was looking at the stars until sunrise with Adama's Ghost, and —**

"You were drunk?!" Rahool cried. More people began to stare.

"Shh! Not so loud!" Cayde looked around in embarrassment. "I wasn't drunk! She's exaggerating!"

 **Exaggerating? I needed to cleanse your neural pathways from the synesthete's effects several times last night!** His Ghost buzzed indignantly.

"I just lost track of time hanging out with some old friends," Cayde cut in. "The only reason it took so long to get here was because we were way out on the eastern perimeter. Do you know how many trains it takes just to get over here? I do _not_ remember taking that many last night!"

So he had been out carousing with Guardian friends. Rahool knew Adama and his fireteam in passing. He supposed he should count himself lucky that Cayde had returned at all. Adama was not known for mild nights out. Not to mention he could disappear off the radar even better than most Hunters, making it hard for even Cayde to pin down his whereabouts.

Rahool took a calming breath. He looked Cayde up and down. The Vanguard didn't seem too worse for wear. Somewhere along the way he'd found a place to change into fresh clothing. His Ghost had wiped away any effects of the synesthete. Thank the Light for that! The icing on this blasted cake would be Cayde going out intoxicated in front of the crowd!

"I hope you're ready for this," Rahool warned him.

Cayde turned to look at the auditorium.

"Ready as I'll ever be." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Come on," Rahool said. "I'll lead you backstage." He turned to Jorin. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue our discussion later. Excellent work today, lad. The Cryptarchy will be in touch."

Jorin's ears started to turn pink.

"Thank you, sir!" He grinned, shuffling from foot to foot.

Cayde stepped up to Jorin.

"Candidate for the Cryptarchy, eh? What's your name, son?"

Jorin had to swallow a few times before he could speak.

"J-Jorin, sir!"

"Jorin, huh? And what's your specialty? Lemme guess: architecture? Mathematics?"

"Actually, it's weapons engineering, sir."

Cayde's eyes lit up.

"Is that so? Know a thing or two about the Foundries, do you?"

Jorin continued to shuffle from foot to foot. He looked at once terrified and elated to be addressing a Guardian.

"Um, well, it's really Golden Age weaponry I'm studying. But, uh, I try to keep up with the latest research." He gestured at Cayde's hip where his sidearm was strapped. "That's an Omolon, right? Looks kind of like their Persephone model, but..."

Cayde glanced at his sidearm in surprise. He unholstered the weapon and presented it in his palm.

"It's an Omolon. I've never heard of the Persephone, though."

"Oh, that's because it's highly experimental. Um, they've never actually mass produced them. This is…uh…" Jorin leaned in to get a better look. Cayde let the boy examine the weapon. Rahool tried not to sigh with impatience. They really ought to be preparing backstage!

Jorin nodded.

"Uh huh. Okay. This is the Asphodel. It's based closely on the Persephone's specs. It's really almost the exact same weapon. It's just lacking the telemetry capabilities and bullet regen of the Persephone, which couldn't really be replicated reliably in high quantity."

"I'm impressed!" Cayde chuckled. "This is an Asphodel, sure enough. Got it from Banshee just a couple months ago. He said it was top-of-the-line Omolon."

"It is!" Jorin nodded emphatically. "It really is. I think it's their best sidearm yet. Virtually no recoil, customizable Ghost interface, and a stronger heat-resistant casing made especially for Warlocks."

As he talked with Cayde, the boy began to stand up a little straighter. His mumbling was dropping away too, Rahool noted. The nervous energy remained, yet he was really in his element now.

Cayde holstered the sidearm.

"Get this kid into the Tower, Cryptarch! We could use a few more minds like his!"

Jorin's whole freckled face turned red.

"Yes. Well. It's time we were going, Cayde," Rahool prompted.

"I'm going to go get a seat," Jorin said, grinning from ear to ear. "Goodbye, sir! Goodbye, Master Rahool!" He waved farewell to the both of them and scurried away behind the doors.

"Tell me he passed the exam," Cayde said.

"We'll see," Rahool answered. "Now let's go!"


	12. Unafraid

Cayde threaded through the crowds in the hallways leading backstage. Rahool plowed through the press of chattering people like an earthmover, clearing the way for the two of them.

 **Are you nervous?** His Ghost asked from Rest.

"Pfft. What for? It's not like we're starin' down the Hive on Luna or anything."

 **You're nervous,** she chirped. **Your telemetry doesn't lie.**

"Well, then why'd you ask?" He sighed.

 **I thought today would be the day you'd finally admit it.** She buzzed and clicked, a wistful sigh.

"Oh, darlin'. You're gonna have to wait for that admission a whole lot longer than this! You know, since you've got a handle on this whole situation, why don't _you_ give the lecture?"

 **Not on your life!** Ghost trilled in alarm.

Cayde laughed, causing some of the people in the hall to look at him quizzically. He supposed it looked rather strange, his talking to Ghost. Like he was talking to himself.

Truth be told, he was still uneasy. Not nervous. No way. How could he be nervous after everything he'd seen and done? It was just…why did this have to be so hard? Why did he still feel like he was about to step out onto the stage and call the sky green and the earth flat?

Backstage, Rahool introduced him to the College President. The man looked exactly as Cayde had pictured him: balding with thick glasses and a decades out-of-fashion suit. He kept his observation to himself though, and shook hands with the man while Rahool chattered on. The Cryptarch was definitely nervous. Anyone would think _he_ was the one getting on stage! Maybe Rahool could relax a little if he stopped trying to run the whole dang show himself. As soon as he walked into a room he was trying to get the skinny on every little detail, grabbing the reigns and barking orders as if the entire world were his Novices.

From the wings, Cayde could see eager looking faces staring up at the stage. The house was full. He never would have guessed so many people would have shown up for this lecture. Didn't they have anything better to do today than listen to some Guardian drone on about what they could and couldn't do?

Rahool came up to him, hands on his hips.

"It's almost time," Rahool announced, as though that weren't painfully obvious. "The President is going to give a short introduction and then it will be your turn. Just go on out there when he's finished and stand by the podium."

"Gee, thanks. I wouldn't have guessed that was my next move."

Rahool's eyes narrowed. He wasn't in the mood for joking, but Cayde couldn't resist winding him up. It was just too easy.

As if on cue, the President walked out from the wings onto the stage. The crowd hushed as he began to speak.

Cayde turned back to the Cryptarch.

"Uh…would this be a bad time to tell you I didn't write anything down?" He asked.

"You'd better think of something!" Rahool said. "It's too late to turn back now."

There was no sympathy to be had from him. He watched Cayde a moment and sighed.

"Look, if you can't dazzle them with an eloquent speech —"

"Then baffle them with B.S?" Cayde asked hopefully.

Rahool's look was flatter than a table.

"I was going to say be yourself," he said. "Just say what you feel. Don't try to get fancy. Trust me, nobody likes that!"

Cayde nodded, thoughtful.

"Be myself. Got it."

The President called his name. If he'd had sweat glands, his palms would be slick. What a ridiculous thing. He'd faced down hordes of Fallen, waves of Hive, stared into the gullet of the Darkness…and he was shaken up by a little speech? _I must be losing my touch,_ he thought glumly. He began to walk toward the stage.

"Cayde!" Rahool called after him.

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to keep my job for just a little while longer, if you please."

"Roger that." He gave the Cryptarch a thumbs up.

The stage was a heck of a lot bigger than he had reckoned from the outside. The lights were brighter too. And he'd be damned if there weren't ten times more people than he'd seen from the wings. Where had that giant balcony come from? The applause at his arrival was thunderous. It quickly died away as he came to a stop at the podium. Seats creaked as people leaned forward to listen. Cayde scanned the rows he could see where he wasn't blinded by the lights. Children sat in the first few rows, bouncy and eager and staring wide-eyed back at him. Some of them were so young they were practically swallowed by the fold-down seats. College students and working folk of the City watched him intently.

His mind went blank. What was he doing here, really? What could he possibly say to these folks when the bitter pill of this assignment was sticking in his throat? What did they expect him to say?

This was crazy. He should just leave. He should just walk off this stage right now and head into the City. What could anyone do to stop him? He was a Guardian, for crying out loud! He could do anything.

For some reason, he could not take a single step away.

He remembered Adama's drunken second offer of a ride out of the Walls to the provinces. He remembered his Ghost staring longingly at the sky.

He remembered Andal Brask, years ago, quietly tending his rifle and speaking calmly of a final death. Humble as the earth in that moment, and bigger than life. Unafraid to face what he knew must one day come. Unafraid to ask Cayde to help him care for those he cared about. Oh, how Brask would tease if he saw his shaking knees now…

The silence in the auditorium was charged with need. Need for him to say something. Anything. _Why are we here?_ their faces asked. _What must we do? When will we be safe?_

"Hi, folks," he said, and cringed inwardly. Those weren't the grand speechifying kind of words he'd been meaning to say. His voice echoed in the cavernous hall. He could imagine Rahool chewing on his cowl in frustration backstage.

"I was at the Wall last night," he tried again. "I stood at the parapet of the eastern watch and looked out to the mountains, wishin' I could see what's out there. Wishin' I could run through those woods and climb to the very top of the peaks. I also remembered the times I was out in those woods, or sittin' on my ship cramped and tired and far from the Tower. Far from Earth. And all the while wishin' I were back within the Walls."

He hesitated. The crowd continued to wait.

 _Just be myself, huh?_

He took a step from the podium.

"I'll level with you. It ain't easy havin' your life run by someone else's schedule. It's frustrating to have a body tell you that you're to stay put when all you want to do is go where you please. Why shouldn't you be able to go? It's a free City. You know the dangers out there. I don't gotta remind you that the Fallen roam the wilds. I don't gotta explain that there's desperate folk you'll run into beyond the City who will make you wish you'd found the Fallen instead. I'm not gonna waste your time telling you what you already know.

I'm just gonna say somethin' real honest: we care. The Guardians, the people of the Tower, we care about you. When we ask you to stay within the Walls, it's because we fear we won't be able to help you when you leave their safety. Yeah, I know we're out there too. I know we're keepin' an eye on the comings and goings of the City. But we can't be everywhere. So we ask you to watch yourselves. If you must leave the City, go smart. Take that armored transport. Take that official escort. Stay on the beaten path and come straight back home.

Yeah. Easy for me to say. I got a jumpship. I got a Ghost. I can tell you all this, then sail away into the sunset. It's so much easier to talk about lovin' your particular situation when you can just up and leave it anytime you want to. You're probably wonderin' if all those fancy Guardian things give me the right to tell you what's what. Well, it doesn't. I ain't the boss of you. I'm just standin' here, asking you real nicely to think about the ones who are waiting for you to come home. You got your reasons why you need to leave. Now think about your reasons to return.

There ain't no easy life for most of us in the Last City. Still, we can't cower inside these Walls forever. Every step you take outside the shelter of the City is a slap in the face of the Darkness tryin' to keep us down. And every needless death outside the Walls is a light gone out against it.

Look out for yourselves. Look out for each other. Enjoy your time within the Walls. There ain't no place like the Last City — believe me, I've looked. When the time comes that you're called beyond its boundaries, go with confidence. Give a wave to the Titans and follow their advice. They stand sentry for you. Don't keep 'em waiting forever."

Silence again. He thought maybe he should say something else, but he couldn't think of what. How long did these speeches have to be anyways?

All eyes were riveted on him. For a fierce, aching moment, he wished it were Brask up here instead of him. Not because he wanted to blow this off. Because Brask would be so much better at this. He had always known what to say. He had always known just what a person needed to hear.

Well, he'd said his piece. Any more would just be repeating himself, talking to hear his own voice.

"The Light go with you," he said. It seemed as good a way to end as any.

He walked offstage. Rahool's golden eyes caught him in the semi-darkness. Cayde wondered if he was going to push him back out. Instead, the Cryptarch just nodded.

Applause rippled through the hall, turning into a roar.


	13. Epilogue: A Gift Horse

Rahool walked over to the enormous painting Cayde was staring at. The Exo stood with his head bowed, his posture thoughtful. Rahool would bet all the glimmer in his pockets he was not thinking about the artwork. Cayde had been uncharacteristically quiet since his speech of a couple hours ago.

"Good news," he said to Cayde. "Ikora has agreed to let you return to the Tower at your leisure today."

It took a moment for Cayde to register he was being spoken to.

"Hmm? Oh. Well, that's mighty fine of her."

"I thought so too," Rahool said.

Around them, patrons of the City's oldest art gallery moved in appreciative quiet, taking in the paintings and sketches and sculptures of the new Golden Age exhibition. They glanced curiously at Cayde too.

"So this is what Riva's been workin' on?" Cayde asked after a moment. "Gettin' this stuff together for the gallery?"

He waved at the painting they stood before. The canvas spanned twice their height. Riotous splashes of color streaked across its surface over dreamlike geometric shapes. A famous piece from the Late Golden Age out of the old North American Empire. Rahool was pleased to finally see it in person. A private collector had long kept it out of public view before Riva finally convinced them to display it.

"Indeed," Rahool answered. "This is the largest collection of its kind in the City. All are Golden Age works."

"Huh. So…what's this one about?"

"Well, it's art. What do _you_ think it's about?"

"I dunno." Cayde said. "How many different colors can fit on one spot?"

Rahool raised an eyebrow. Cayde raised his hands defensively.

"Hey! I don't pretend to know this stuff!"

"It depends on whom you ask," Rahool explained patiently. "Some scholars say it represents the profusion of technology present before the Collapse and the angst of the artist in the midst of it all, longing for a simpler time. Others say it's a fanciful map of the known galaxy. Riva maintains it's depicting the dreams of the Traveler. I rather like her idea the best."

"Me too," Cayde said.

They were silent for a while, taking in the painting.

"Who's the artist?" Cayde asked.

"Nobody knows. Their name has been lost to history."

"Too bad."

"Yes," Rahool mused. "I'd like to know who they were. Where they came from, whether they have descendants in the City to this day…"

"I wonder if they figured someone would be lookin' at it so far in the future?" Cayde said after a time. "Must be nice to have something left behind. Even if folks can't agree on what it is."

Rahool nodded. They regarded the painting a little while longer.

"That was a good speech you gave," Rahool said. He had thought he would have more trouble admitting that, but there it was.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It was...heartfelt. A tad short, maybe. But hearfelt."

"Ah. Well, next time."

Rahool turned to Cayde in surprise.

"Are you planning on a next time?"

"Maybe." Cayde shrugged. "This one got me out of the Tower, didn't it?"

He left the painting and wandered toward the next room. Rahool followed, though this time with no anxiety. For the moment, he wasn't worried about losing track of Cayde. Something was gnawing at the Vanguard enough to keep him quite tamed. He had a feeling the speech was weighing on him more than Cayde would admit. Cayde had surprised himself. He sure as the Light had surprised him. The question was, what was the surprise? That he could deliver a rather poignant, if unconventional, speech? Or that perhaps his bonds to the Vanguard and the Tower had been changed to a sense of honorable duty instead of grudging obligation simply by listening to his own words? Rahool couldn't be sure. He'd like to think it was the latter.

"I'd entertain the notion of a next time, if I were you," Rahool said.

Cayde's look was doubtful, as though he weren't sure whether Rahool was being serious.

"I ain't fixin' to become a Cryptarch or anything," he said.

"Blessed Light, no!" Rahool snorted. "I'm just saying you've got the beginnings of a real inspirational speaker."

"That's real sweet of you. But I'm just gonna stick to my playpen in the Vanguard Hall for now," Cayde said. "I really ain't one for speeches."

They passed a splashing fountain in an echoing glass rotunda. It was quite a pretty piece, fashioned to be the Traveler presiding over Mars. The water gushed forth from a slab of polished red rock beneath the carved white marble sphere. Glimmer sparkled in the bottom of the pool.

Rahool glanced at the brochure he held detailing the exhibit.

"The sculpture wing is to our right," he said. "There's a bust in there that Riva has dated to the early Golden Age. Possibly from before humanity made contact with the Traveler."

"Lead on." Cayde waved a hand to the entryway.

Rahool hesitated.

"You know, I suppose you don't have to stay here if you're not interested," he said slowly. "If you kept to the Arts District, I could come fetch you when I'm through."

Cayde crossed his arms and looked suspiciously at Rahool.

"You're lettin' me out of your sight?" He asked.

"You came back for the lecture. I suppose I can trust you to come back to the jumpship and the Tower."

Cayde leaned in, eyes narrowing.

"Who are you, and what have you done with the Cryptarch?" He asked solemnly.

"Very funny."

"Nah," Cayde said, examining the fountain. "I'll save you the trouble of coming to fetch me. I figure I've given you enough hell for one trip."

Rahool's eyes widened in surprise, though Cayde did not see.

"Is that an apology, Cayde?" He asked, amused.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't make a big deal or nothin," Cayde muttered. "It's not like I have anywhere else to be right now. Adama's long gone. Besides, little miss sunshine here wants to see the pretty pictures." He tapped his chest to indicate his Resting Ghost.

"I see."

They moved off toward the sculpture wing. For a while they just looked at the artwork, not talking to each other. Cayde's Ghost appeared from Rest to scan some of the sculptures, much to the amusement of the other patrons. When they passed through the glass rotunda again, Cayde was still willing to stay at the gallery. Rahool took a seat on the edge of the fountain, resting his feet.

"I didn't know that the Cryptarchy dealt in art shows," Cayde said. "This is kinda neat."

Rahool supposed that was high praise coming from him.

"It's a side project, to be sure," Rahool sighed. "I do wish we could be more involved. But there are only so many of us to go around. We've got to balance our studies with the needs of the Tower."

Cayde eyed him curiously.

"Maybe you should take some time off, go and study in the City. Heck, even the wilds. You could get a fireteam escort no problem."

"Are you that eager to be rid of me?" Rahool needled him.

"I'm not sayin' that!" Cayde protested. "I'm just thinkin' maybe you'd be happier if you could indulge yourself a little. Get outta engrams and dead zone mappin' and all that and start focusing on what really makes you tick. Whatever that is. Doily making. I dunno."

Rahool couldn't help a wry smile.

"That's quite rich, coming from you."

"Heh, the irony isn't lost on me," Cayde grunted. "Everyone knows I'm waitin' for my term to be up. Well, I think you're doin' the same."

"There's no "term" for a Master Cryptarch."

"Well, maybe there should be," Cayde said. "You work hard, Cryptarch. I don't think I gotta tell you that the Tower will just keep workin' you harder without rest. So if there's somethin' you want to do, you should make it known. Tell the Vanguard. In case you missed the memo, I'm one of the Vanguard leaders. I'm not making any promises, but I might be able to pull a string or two and get you what you need — what? What's that look for?"

"No offense, Cayde," Rahool said, his smile growing wider. "I just find it hard to believe that you would care."

"All right," Cayde said, putting his hands on his hips. "Then believe this. You scratched my back by not reporting my exploits to Ikora, so now I'll scratch yours."

Ah. That was more like the Cayde he knew. Well, he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Though perhaps he ought to exercise a little caution still. After all, this was Cayde...

"I'll keep that in mind," Rahool said.

"Now that I think about it, maybe we should get a whole lecture series going," Cayde said as they continued to the next wing.

"What happened to I ain't one for speeches?" Rahool asked.

"I didn't say we'd actually lecture," Cayde chuckled conspiratorially. "You see, we'd tell Ikora and Zavala that's what we're doin', but then we'd just go hang out!"

"Hang out?" Rahool echoed dubiously.

"Yeah! You could go puttering around museums or antique shops or whatever, and I could catch up with friends in the wilds!"

"And what happens if we get caught?" Rahool asked.

"Aw, Rahool! You're goin' about this all wrong! You can't let the consequences get in the way of a good idea! Hey, how fast do you think you could learn to fly a jumpship…?


End file.
